


Pride of the North Pole

by dagas isa (dagas_isa)



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 27,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dagas_isa/pseuds/dagas%20isa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short, interconnected stories centered on Kimahri Ronso.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Base Camp

**Author's Note:**

> The stories are presented in the order of prompts at on the Fanfic 100 table. Where there's chronology issues, they'll be referred to within chapter notes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri starts on a path of introspection.

The gates of Kimahri's life open. This is his time to stand up, to walk forward. For so long, his life has stopped for the sake of another, just as the world remained paused in the past. His business away from the mountain is done; the monster holding the world hostage is dead; and Kimahri must play another role. He must lead his people to the uncertain future.

For ten years, he strayed from Gagazet, his honor and connections binding him to the world of humans. Nearly an exile, he left forbidden to climb the snowy trails of Gagazet, only a recent redemption let him escort his friend Yuna and her guardians to the other side. Yet, in a changed world, he must ascend the sacred mountain, he must take from the mantle of the dead Kelk, the revered title of Maester. Somehow, he must revive his depleted tribe.

His physique intimidates no one; all the Ronso warriors, and most of the females still tower over his form. Only the children look up at him, and even then, sometimes he reads the pity in their eyes. The horn, the Ronso's main natural weapon and their source of pride, remains as broken as the day he left Mt. Gagazet on his own quest. His silent gold eyes scan the crowed for signs of a challenge. The largest warriors resent his presumption, but not even they can step forward to challenge him. Only a few years younger than Kimahri, their desire for guidance lowers their gaze, even when pride compels them to challenge such a slight Ronso.

Younger than some, smaller than most, Kimahri still exudes the quiet strength and wisdom of an Elder. Along among all of them, he left the safety or their sacred mountain and helped to accomplish something larger than any one individual. Lady Yuna became high-summoner, but all the Ronso know that Kimahri walked along with her, and cleared her way through the mountain. He looks like a broken weakling, but his resume stands taller than anyone. The accomplishments and circumstances which burdened him for so long straightened his back. The Ronsos' souls resonate to such quiet pride, and all pray and part to let the former outcast through.

Kimahri knows what lies ahead if he steps through the gates. The physical journey seems short, an ascent to the summit from the base and then a descent. Alone and in silence, the path becomes a metaphor for his life, and he must reflect often. The simple questions will plague him: Why do the Ronso need him as Elder, why does Spira need him as Elder? Under the weight of his entire life, the path lengthens considerably, and furthermore, until he examines he deeds, the mountain will not let him return to where his people await.

No doubt plagues him. If his destiny rests elsewhere, he would not start his journey here. Though he spent time exiled in the warm southern lands, he belongs here, to this mountain, where the songs of rock, ice, wind, and snow hum in his bones, where the chill that penetrates his fur reminds him of life. Every intake of sharp, clear air that passes his nostril tells him that he lives. One breath taken on the mountain, and Kimahri feels more alive than he had anywhere else in vast Spira.

So Kimahri takes one last look at the people who entrust him with the role of elder, though he abandoned him ten years past. The he turns his gaze upwards to where the trial awaits. Bare paws crunch down on the snow, and Kimahri Ronso crosses the threshold and takes his first steps on the path of Elder.


	2. A Vigilant Guardian?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reflection of how one can spend a day perfectly still. Companion piece to "Stoicism"

One hour before temple duty:

Kimahri lies on his back in the midday sun, letting the star's rays heat his fur as he lounges on the ruins that peek out from the canopy. He's gorged well on the fiends that would have threatened the villagers, well enough to keep his stamina up for whatever trial awaits them. This'll be his last time on the island, and he'll enjoy her embrace once more before accompanying Yuna on her pilgrimage. He needs to leave soon, and report but the afternoon heat prompt him to close his eyes for just a little bit longer.

Zero hours before temple duty:

People still stare at Kimahri, even after ten years of him living near the village. While he understands the fear of those who look different, a decade should have been enough time for people to overcome their anxiety. He lines up with Yuna's other guardians, her foster siblings Wakka and Lulu. Wakka will wait outside the temple, fortunately for everyone, while Lulu and Kimahri will spend their time guarding the antechamber while Yuna prays. He won't regret leaving this part of Besaid behind, although he knows Yuna will miss the village that's raised her.

Temple duty starts:

Kimahri never understood the need humans had to worship Yevon so elaborately. The temple is necessary, yes, to house the Aeon. Kimahri understands that. What he doesn't understand is the nose-clogging incense, and the statues the humans probably can't see in the dim light. The priest explains the rules when they reach the entrance to the cloister. Let the apprentice summoner figure out the trial. Do not let anyone disturb the apprentice summoner while she prays. Do not do anything to disturb the summoner. Kimahri absorbs these rules into his flesh while Yuna and Lulu nod their agreement to the rules.

One hour into temple duty:

Yuna takes her time with the trial, nervous about making mistakes, and never quite willing to ask Kimahri or Lulu for a hint. She reads all the text given to her, and Kimahri wonders what meaning Yuna's gleaning from the symbols that somehow passes over his and Lulu's head. He hears a cracking sound when his attention is elsewhere looking for intruders. A look at the source, and he sees Yuna looking unduly embarrassed and Lulu with a small teasing smile. Kimahri himself holds his expression back, but even he cannot help but be amused and Yuna's little bit of clumsiness.

Two hours into temple duty:

Yuna finally completes the trial, content that she's gleaned every bit of knowledge the temple has to offer her at this moment. They rest in the antechamber. It'll be a bit before Yuna enters and starts to pray. She needs to clear her mind of doubt, the only sludge that will let Yuna fail this trial. Kimahri waits, as he's used to doing, until she says, "All right it's time." Kimahri nods, and prepares for the long vigil ahead.

Five hours into temple duty:

Lulu begins to get fidgety, something Kimahri expected only after Sin had vanquished permanently. Her posture tells him more about the situation than what words can. Yuna has been inside for a long time, and Lulu expects that she should be out. His instincts tell him differently, that she'll be more deliberate and thorough in her prayers than other summoners. Certainly, it's not because she's tottering on the brink of failure.

Eight hours into temple duty:

Days of training as a Ronso warrior come back to Kimahri. Suddenly he's no longer in the too warm, too still antechamber, but rather exposed on the mountain trail. Even with thick fur, the ice and chill winds blast at his defenses. He learned patience on Gagazet, and the lessons are coming back to him. He's also remembering how much he disliked that particular part of training. Life, motion, all the things worth loving are temporarily drained away and there's nothing but the waiting. He's a patient Ronso, and he'll see this through.

Ten hours into temple duty:

Kimahri figures it's night by now. The last of his rich afternoon meal is digesting, and unfortunately guardians are required to fast while their summoner is praying. Yuna takes her time; it's no longer her friends she thinks of, but all of Spira. Better to keep a few waiting than to somehow mess up and let down thousands. Lulu seems to show similar signs of discomfort, and Kimahri would not condemn her if she chose to sit down, or pace. He still faces this challenge, although perhaps his thoughts begin to wander.

Twelve hours into temple duty:

He wants a Ronso mate, as if a Hornless Ronso would ever be in a position to find a mate, but Kimahri's learned to appreciate human beauty as well. As fearful of Lulu's temper as any of the villagers, Kimahri makes sure to keep his thoughts completely in check. In all honesty though, he enjoys watching her move around when she thinks no one is watching, and the way her motion shows of her...assets. Yes, that was the euphemism he's heard Wakka and Chappu use before, when neither of them thought anyone was listening. He doesn't lust after her, like human males do, rather he likes the process of ripening that she's done over the years, and particularly the results of said ripening.

Sixteen hours into temple duty:

It's long past night, and Kimahri feels the sun rising in the world outside the temple. Priests claim the chamber of the Fayth is built so deep into the chamber, that time becomes immeasurable. Kimahri knows sunrise and sunset, even when isolated from the outside world. His body feels a bit heavy from lack of sleep, and the second wind has not quite taken effect yet. Lulu too, seems to droop with fatigue, although he gives her credit for trying to conceal her state.

Nineteen hours into temple duty:

Inhale. Two. Three. Four. Exhale. Two. Three. Four. Kimahri becomes blank, like a clear sky. Thoughts enter his head like winds, and while he enjoys them in passing, he refuses to grab any for further investigation. Like a long stint on guard duty, Kimahri becomes impermeable to anything around him and retreats into his body, leaving any anxiety and physical discomfort outside of his shell.

Twenty-two hours into temple duty:

Kimahri wakes from his open-eyed sleep. He feels something coming towards them. Slight scrapes of spheres plugging into holes. A distant rumble of an explosion, all hint that someone has chosen to check up on Yuna. Most likely Wakka, visiting on behalf of those outside concerned for Yuna's safety. Kimahri turns an ear towards the exit, the better to hear any further developments. For now he waits, later he'll take action.

Twenty-three hours into temple duty:

The door slides open with a stony grind, and a human pup rushes in. Wakka stands behind him with a stance of defeat. Lulu rushes to react, demanding what these two are doing in the sanctuary. Kimahri though, hears a more subtle sound: lighter footsteps, a glide of a better maintained door. Yuna finally comes out, weary but radiant, with a smile etched across her face. She's now a summoner, although she doesn't quite have the energy to stand any more.

Kimahri bounds across the room while the others stand staring. She falls into his waiting arms, and he supports her as they walk out of the cloister together. Later, she'll be embarrassed and mumble her apologies for showing her exhaustion, and Kimahri will inwardly smile, knowing that they all fulfilled their duties that long day.


	3. Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auron is grateful to Kimahri for things the Ronso doesn't even know about. Spoilers for Auron. Companion to "Knowing"

The earthy, slightly rancid, air of Guadosalam seemed a welcome after the dizzying wind of the Farplane, and Auron felt himself becoming less undone every step he took from the entrance. The pyrefly body he so carefully maintained for the past ten years had slowly unraveled while he waited alongside Rikku while the others spoke with the shadowed fragments of people who once lived. In a way, though Rikku had tried to make conversation, Auron felt grateful for the presence of another on the outside. The Al Bhed had made his refusal to go on the far plane less suspicious.

Yet, some still did suspect. Lulu certainly, although her mind seemed more occupied with other issues. Jecht's son, maybe. Perhaps he was just too curious as usual, and only Seymour's comment about the scent of the Farplane, had made him curious. Yuna would accept anyone as they were. That he had been her father's Guardian and away for ten years had been enough to appease her. Rikku found nothing strange in refusing to walk into the Farplane, seeing as she could project her own reasons for refusing to go onto Auron. And perhaps, it was true, that Auron would, had he lived, chosen not to see and talk with the ghosts of his loved one. Wakka, of all of them, seemed too caught in his view of the world to question anything odd.

But Kimahri...

Kimahri knew. The Ronso never said anything, never gave any sign more than the usual nodding of his head, but Auron had seen the keen eyes looking at him since his reappearance in Luca. And on their journey to the Farplane, when one of his pyreflies, perhaps one of the hairs on his head, escaped to its proper home, Kimahri had tracked it with a precision no one else could have mustered. And then the nod, the silent signal that Kimahri had finished placing the explanation in his mind.

Ten years ago, ten years four months and twenty-seven days since he had died in the Calm Lands, the Al Bhed Rin, his assistance, and the outcast Ronso as his witnesses. At least he had the dignity to expire while they all slept. And Kimahri had been the last to hear his breaths. He remembered how difficult they had been, how they had hurt. And how easy those breaths were than the ones he had tried to draw afterwards, when his pyreflies had threatened to leave with every exhalation.

Yuna walked into Seymour's chateau, thinking to discuss the question of marriage to Seymour, and Auron took his post outside the door. Nothing could be done for now, except for waiting, and Kimahri chose to do his waiting near Auron. And somehow, Auron became reminded of another time, the first time he had met Kimahri.

***

The Ronso welcomed all summoners equally, for they were the last friendly faces a summoner and his guardians would know. The night Braska, Jecht and Auron had crossed the gates into the Ronso's base camp, a bonfire had been prepared and the smell of warm meat and mountain plants cooking had lured them to the campfire. Songs were sung, including the deep-throated Ronso version of the Hymn of the Fayth. The elder had been at Bevelle when they arrived, but the wiry Ronso who was leader in his stead had set up entertainments for the summoner and his guardians to make them laugh and give them heart on the long climb up the mountain.

And here, Auron had first seen Kimahri. The Ronso warriors had marched in formation, moving their spears in choreographed motions, each one seeming to tower over the next, except for one.

"What's with the shrimp?" Jecht had asked Braska, pointed to the small Ronso at the tail end of the formation. "He's a little young to be with the warriors."

The wiry Ronso had grimaced. "Small Ronso is Kimahri Ronso. Kimahri tries to be bigger than his size."

The woman next to the first Ronso nodded in agreement, "Kimahri is small Ronso, but Kimahri practices to beat other Ronso in combat, so other Ronso cannot call him small."

If the subject of their discussion had heard, he gave no reaction. Instead he completed the formation, apparently completely focused on keeping his motions in unison with those around him. Something about that total concentration had resonated with Auron at the time, a total focus on what he wanted.

"Hmmph..." Jecht said, "sounds like my son. He's a little shrimp, but no matter what I tell him, he keeps wanting to play Blitzball like his pop."

The Ronso had then asked about the son of Jecht, and the grizzled blitzer had been happy to oblige, telling his tale by light of campfire. They had seemed fascinated, more than anyone should be by a man bragging about his son.

Auron had chosen to shy away and contemplate. Braska and the final summoning seemed much closer than it had in the Calm Lands, and perhaps it would seem twice as close when they reached the peak of Gagazet. He had chosen the impossible battle, to find the way for Braska to defeat Sin without the Final Aeon and the sacrifice of the summoner's life.

Somehow he had ended up beyond the camp to brood, away from the bonfire, and at the first rocky outcropping. In the light, the small Ronso, Kimahri, had continued practicing with the spears with a single minded intensity.

Auron had wanted to call out, make the Ronso divulge the secrets of such dedication, but the words failed him, and the young Kimahri had continued on uninterrupted.

Perhaps the Ronso had never known, but Auron still remembered, even after the worries he had that night became trivial.

***

Something should be said, Auron mused. To confirm. To ask. To come to an understanding.

"You know?" Auron said, asking the question only rhetorically.

"Kimahri knows."

"Silence would be best then...if they knew...things would get complicated."

"Kimahri will not tell."

"Thank you."

The exchange stayed that brief, as both preferred to watch the exchanges of others to making their own conversation.

Auron remembered the Ronso who had made that promise ten years ago. Injured and newly defeated, the majority of his horn hanging down from a rival's spear. The one who had for one moment inspired Auron to pursue his goals. Such luck for both of them. Yuna had grown, the summoner he had hoped her to be, selfless yet defiant, perhaps ready to end the cycle that had taken her father in the end. And for some of that, he should thank Kimahri.


	4. Stoicism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lulu looks at her fellow guardian. Companion piece to, "A Vigilant Guardian"

Lulu tries so hard to remain stone-like, like the statues guarding the chamber of the Fayth Yuna is her third summoner, and Lulu knows her role: wait until the apprentice summoner emerges and make sure that no one disturbs the pilgrim inside. Guardians anticipate and fear, like expectant fathers at difficult births. Will their apprentice find the strength to acquire their first Aeon? Will they leave the temple in despair? Might the worst happen, and the summoner die trying to absorb the Aeon?

She's been here before, standing in the same spot, for her other two, but somehow this time is different. Yuna is a different summoner, younger, closer to Lulu's heart than either of her previous charges. And her companion at this vigil is different as well.

Kimahri achieves the facade Lulu longs to create. Stillness completely envelops him, as he simply stands guard. If there's tension in his stance, Lulu can't detect it. Kimahri is the complete opposite of those other guardians she completed this part of the summoner's training with. One reprimanded Lulu for showing the slightest bit of discomfort at the constant standing in the stifling chamber. The other, Wakka, simply did not have the patience to stay still or the fortitude to stay awake.

If Kimahri sees her shuffle momentarily to relieve the discomfort of standing in place after hours of constant alert, he gives no sign of disapproval. No matter how sharply she looks, Lulu cannot read his thoughts or his emotions.

Lulu imagines he feels almost as nervous as she does; Yuna is as much his friend and she is Lulu and Wakka's, and despite the Ronso appearance of being half-fiend, she knows they have more heart and brains than most humans are willing to give them credit for. So it's not from a lack of feeling that he becomes like a stone, but rather the sheer power of will and restraint.

To tell the truth, Kimahri's stillness comforts Lulu in this situation. He reminds her not to worry, that things will come as they come. When Yuna comes out, if Yuna comes out, they will rise to the challenges as they come. They all have their jobs. Yuna will summon, and carry them forward. Lulu will guide them down the roads she knows better than anyone in the groups. Wakka, dumb and lovable, will keep their spirits up on the long journey ahead. And Kimahri, will simply be there, a pillar of strength to do what's needed.

Sounds of footsteps awakes Lulu from her thoughts. She turns towards the Chamber of Fayth, anxious for an answer before she realizes the disturbances comes from the exit. Wakka stands there as a stranger bursts in, and Lulu tenses up in preparation to do her duty as a guardian.

Kimahri still stands stoic, giving the intruders a swift glance before fixing his attention to the Chamber's exit. Lulu steps in to stop the intruders from disturbing Yuna, while Kimahri steps up and catches the exhausted summoner in his arms.

Together, they have completed the guardians' first duty.


	5. The Mountain's Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri comes home to his true family.

The Ronso emerge from their hiding places, still uncomfortable in their empty home. The mother, they say, has been raped by the Guado, and most of her precious children have been killed. What was once a sacred clan, thousands strong, now straggles along with a few hundred, those who managed to hide from Seymour and his subjects.

The habit that saved their lives however, makes it difficult for them to stand up and build anew. None of them care to admit their weakness, that fear holds them by their tails and makes them unable to act. To acknowledge their cowardice is the act of a Hornless, and even decimated enough Ronso pride exists to not become like their outcasts, still doing their dirty work in the heart of the mountain.

Not a one of them cares to think about the irony of the situation. The one they wait for, the one they count on, is one of those made Hornless. He accepted neither victory nor death, and so has fled in cowardice. Yet, the unease rises when they think of what this particular Hornless has done for Spira, and perhaps what he can do for the Ronso.

The wind carries his scent from a distant land. The oldest grandmothers, whose blurry eyes hide the keenest sense of smell say they can smell his Ronso-human scent, and even now the untrained warriors can tell that one of their own is returning home.

***

Kimahri never imagined coming home at all. Well, in his younger days, he fantasized while living on Besaid that he'd find some way to redeem himself, to take his place among the Ronso warriors, even with his shameful defeat against Biran. Fantasies aside though, he never imagined that he would actually be here with Gagazet's rocks beneath his feet preparing to face his kin once more.

Very few things scare Kimahri: the crying of the young, the scolding of the women, his own smiling, and the disapproval of his clan. He remembers how he left their hold, taking craven sanctuary in the embrace of a dying man to live in the world made for humans. Kimahri doesn't relish such a homecoming, but now that he has served his purpose, he cannot ignore his longing to return.

***

Barsa Ronso, mate of the late Elder Kelk Ronso and the sole pregnant female left among the Ronso clan waits at the entrance to the mountain trail. Until a new elder could be appointed, she stands up to greet the hornless who was now returning.

To her left are the females, the daughters still too young to mate, pups still needing the care of their grandmothers. To her right, the males, the past and future Ronso warriors stand, looking less prepared to welcome their errant brother. The eldest of the trainees, Garik seems the most hostile, crossing his arms and glaring towards the tunnel, where even now Kimahri was making his way.

The outcast steps past the barrier that isolates Gagazet from the rest of the world. To say the least Barsa isn't impressed with his looks or his stature. A runt who towers over no one but cubs, one whose horn-stub only comes to her eye-level, she has to fight the urge to hiss at him and order the warriors to drive him away.

Kimahri does nothing to relieve or provoke her anger. He merely looks down at his snow and allows Barsa and her folk to act first.

"What does the Hornless one have to say to the Ronso people?"

***

Attuned to the higher voices of human females, Kimahri feels somewhat put off by the Ronso woman's deep voice. He sees, smells, feels the uncertainty that comes from all of them. Kimahri is hornless, yet a hero. He deserves a welcome, yet cannot have honor. He knows their contradiction. To live among the people he spent his youth with, Kimahri must make them forget the mark of the outcast drawn so plainly on his face.

"Kimahri comes home." He answers simply. Further questions will reveal his story, as much of the story they want to hear. Ronso do not force unnecessary words or answer unspoken questions, regardless of whether they've lived a decade among the more communicative humans.

"Why did Kimahri leave the mountain. His brothers and sisters, his aunts, uncles, and grandmothers?" By honoring tradition, Kimahri gains the privilege to tell his story Ronso style.

"Kimahri promised Guardian to look after Summoner Yuna."

Barsa nods. "Kimahri guards Summoner Yuna for ten years. Kimahri stays away from mountain for ten years, lives among hornless weakling humans."

"Yuna cry and ask Kimahri to stay. Kimahri ashamed to admit weakness to Yuna's tears."

The hoarse huffing the passed for Ronso laughter rose through the onlookers. "Kimahri stays with Yuna, and now Kimahri went with Yuna on her pilgrimage across Spira?"

"Kimahri went with Yuna on her Pilgrimage across Spira."

"Did the Hornless one cower while the Summoner and her guardians fought?"

The key question there. Did Kimahri behave like a coward, or did he, even without the physical horn, still carry the mantle of Ronso pride. They would expect a roar of anger, boasting, bellowing. So Kimahri did what he must, and when he spoke he did so in a voice soft enough for the wind to overshadow it.

"Kimahri no longer young pup to brag achievements. Kimahri do what summoner Yuna ask, fight where summoner Yuna fight. Kimahri take care of Ronso problems and Ronso pride. Kimahri hornless, not coward."

After his speech, Kimahri looks around, at the sons and daughters, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. His peers, the brothers and sisters, and his leaders, the mothers and fathers, are gone now, exterminated by Seymour's genocide, but Kimahri knows they can rebuild their tribe now, if they focus on moving forward. He counts on it, and Barsa, the Ronso who questions Kimahri in place of an elder, understands this too.

***

Silence descends upon the Ronso. They must all know in their hearts whether to welcome their errant kinsman. There is no discussion, except those near-intuitive shifts of posture that indicate agreement or objection.

Barsa is the first to speak. "Welcome Kimahri, brother of the Ronso."

Others echo her, raising a paw to him in solidarity. A few, mainly the young warriors sore at being called pups, remained silent but didn't object.

And suddenly Kimahri is brought into the folds of his family, the Ronso, caught up in a tide of people, real people, touching and grooming, sniffing and shuffling, making pleased noises at his return. Until this moment, he's never realized how much he has missed this affection, and how much he now basks in its sunlight.


	6. Purpose From a Dying Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recently defeated Kimahri finds his purpose.

Defeat stung, but somehow Kimahri had expected to feel more pain. The cold wind should cut deeper where Biran's spear scored his flesh, but instead it numbed him to the sensation of the world. Shocked perhaps, but he still walked on, every pain distant from his body. Up? Down? Kimahri didn't know; both the base and the peak forbidden to him by Ronso law. Defeat robbed him of the peak, honor of the camp. Yet, he forced himself to keep moving, for this time, he could not accept his death quietly.

If he crossed his eyes, Kimahri could see his ivory horn dangling from the center of his forehead, connected only by a thin strip of keratin. Even if by some miracle of nature, it stayed on, his humiliation during those months of recovery would jeopardize any chance of his joining the Ronso warriors. He raised his paw, ready to tear his horn off by his own will, and paused. Such a mutilation was irreversible even as it was of his own will. If he couldn't accept death quietly, could he accept the next worst thing: the fate of being Hornless?

No more dire insult existed than to be hornless. A hornless Ronso never mated, never hunted, never fought. The only works good enough for him was serving others, doing the unsavory duties that no one in their right mind did. Juxtaposed against the fate of death, being hornless would be a life without living. Just like death, Kimahri couldn't accept that fate either.

He needed something to accept, anything which would give him the opportunity to salvage something worthwhile. His claws curled over a rocky edge, a warning that another step and Kimahri wouldn't need to wait for something to end him. A heavy snow obscured his vision, and upon the white canvas it presented, a heavy summoner's stave stuck out from the ground, next to a stone marking the grave.

This summoner tried, as Kimahri did, to fulfill a mission and preserve an honor. Like Kimahri, he came so close, the mountains being the last barrier between the summoner and Zanarkand, and yet, he failed here, just as Kimahri did. So few summoners ever climbed the mountain, perhaps three in his entire lifetime, and two of them had met their end somewhere on Gagazet's craggy path. The last descended with a pure purpose, although his own end waited just outside.

The particular grave he leaned on now belonged to one of those failed summoners, the first one Kimahri ever remember crossing the mountain gates. For a human female, she was so large and strong, and determination stretched across her face so that he almost didn't notice her lack of horn, for her expression was its own authority. Her two guardians were just as strong, with scars of honor to mark their brave service. Yet not even a third of the way up the trail, she and her party were caught in a blizzard like this, so poorly prepared that death caught them.

Perhaps their souls still wandered the mountain as fiends, perhaps Kimahri or one of his fellow Ronso had killed them already. Perhaps she had accepted her death, but it had not been her choice to die. Even with the purpose, her life ended, and at that moment, Kimahri felt the same. In some vague sense, he still had his purpose, to live in the Ronso way, with stoic honor, but circumstances and his own folly kept that purpose far from his grasp.

So should he lay down with her and let come what may?

He was certainly ready to, with no other place to go.

"You."

The storm muffled the deep voice, but there was no mistake that it addressed Kimahri. He walked around to the other side of his grave, where a man dressed in red lay, nursing his last wounds. Even through the heavy wounds the human carried, Kimahri still recognized him the guardian of the last summoner to climb Gagazet, the one who succeeded, and who shortly before this ascended alone. Now on his way down, it looked the man had fought for his life--and lost.

Kimahri nodded and sat down, the better to hear what the dying man had to say.

"I have promises." The man spoke haltingly, as if each word took dire effort to utter. "Go to Bevelle. Take Yuna to Besaid."

Bevelle. Besaid. Those were human places, far from Gagazet. And this man would never complete his objective. Kimahri could already smell the death leaking from this man. His bearing, his request, all signaled acceptance of his end. Just like him, just like the summoner whose grave they borrowed for their last respite, he would die without completing his purpose.

"Please."

The please struck him, more than anything else. This man could not fulfill this promise, but Kimahri could. Kimahri could leave the mountain, which could no longer be home from him. He could travel through the human lands to help this man with his last request.

"Kimahri go where?"

"South. Bevelle is past the Calm Lands. Yuna will be in the care of the temples. Besaid, as far south as the ships go."

Kimahri nodded even has he had no idea how he could find Yuna and travel to Besaid with those directions, but this man had too little strength to keep speaking. The small snow storm had lightened enough to travel, and Kimahri could see his path now clearly.

A bellow filled his lungs, and with a loud roar, he proclaimed his intention to the mountain. "Kimahri will leave Gagazet, fulfill promise to human man." His destiny declared, he slung the dying red-coated man over his shoulder. "Mountain no place to rest."

"Heh." The weak shaking sounded like a laugh.

They moved forward, down the short rocky outcropping, which still showed signs of his struggle with Biran and his fellow warrior Yenke and through the gates that led to the main Ronso camp.

His fellow Ronso had been waiting for him; and not in welcome, as the warriors raised their spears ready to attack, and the women and children held stones to throw at the new Hornless one. Only the dying man on his shoulder protected him from physical attacks, although the shouts and taunts still reached his ears.

"Hornless weakling! Hornless! Hornless!"

"Run away, Little Kimahri! So weak he has to live with puny humans!"

Rage burned in him, but with his burden and the injuries he still sustained from his last battle, all he could do with the energy is walk a little faster to the gate which separated Gagazet from the rest of the world. Even if he wanted to bellow and roar, he had a mission now. Let this man die among his own kind. Find Yuna.

Though he spent his entire life cradled in its arms, Kimahri Ronso refused to look back at the world he was leaving. His purpose lay ahead.


	7. Over Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri finds an upset Yuna on a bridge. Takes place after "Bevelle's Mountain"

Threads the humans could never grasp wrapped around Kimahri and led him through the city of Bevelle in his search for Yuna. Even with the scents of festivals: food and fireworks, his memory locked on to the one smell that would bring him to his quarry

***

One by one, flower petals dropped into the waterway, as the only mourner in a city of celebration watched them flow away. Intellectually she knew, her father had defeated Sin and would never return, but with all the cheering, her heart denied the truth.

Yuna hadn't run away, not like the people at the temple were likely to think. As the high-summoner's daughter she should represent her father at the celebrations in his honor, but when felt like crying as others laughed, keeping far away from their merriment seemed the best solution for everyone.

What now? Would Sir Auron or Sir Jecht come to meet her, and take her with them? She imagined Sir Jecht, scruffy and bare-chested, but gentle underneath returning to take her to his Zanarkand. He'd play Blitzball and she'd watch from her seat cheering him on. Or Sir Auron, himself an outcast, would find Yuna, and he'd be her guardian as they traveled Spira. Or maybe this time Sin hadn't killed the high-summoner when he died. Her father could be waiting around the corner, arms ready to hug his daughter.

"Yuna?"

The sound of her name, spoken in such a deep, unfamiliar voice made her look up from the water, though she still hid her face from the person in case he saw her on the verge of tears.

"Y-Yes?"

"Kimahri come for Yuna."

Yuna turned around to look at Kimahri, whoever he was, and nearly jumped into the canal from fright. She had thought Sir Jecht and Sir Auron giants, but this person dwarfed them all. He didn't look human either, with his yellow-gold eyes, blue fur, and a lion-like face. In all her seven years of life, Yuna had never seen anything nearly so scary.

Her resolve started to melt as Kimahri stared down at her. The monster, for something so big had to be a fiend, waited for Yuna to make a move, to run or cry. What if her father or Sir Jecht or Sir Auron was watching her. She had to be strong, to make them proud of her.

"You've come for me? What for?"

"Kimahri take Yuna to Besaid. Father's wishes."

***

Kimahri hadn't known what to expect from the high-summoner's daughter, but certainly wasn't the girl currently hugging his legs and crying sloppy tears on his loincloth. He smelled fear-sweat on her skin, but instead of running away, she'd remained calm until he told her why he'd come.

Idly, he contemplated whether he should have told Yuna anything, and whether simply taking her out of Bevelle would have been the better approach. Instead of showing this thought though, Kimahri waited for the girl to stop her weeping before explaining anything else.

Kimahri thought of his training while he stood here. Patient as stone, protector of the weak, the warrior did no harm and took no action unless and until it was necessary. The human pup's tears might shift him off edge, but he had to wait for her to accept or reject the situation before he could think of forcing her to leave with him.

Every time a firework exploded, the girl's sobbing renewed, and through the choked tears she began to explain.

"My father-he's dead, now isn't he? That's why you're here. But everyone's celebrating, and the fireworks. They're celebrating because my father's dead!" The crying started anew and Kimahri wondered if Yuna's eyes would ever run dry.

"People happy because Sin died." Kimahri explained. "People honor High-Summoner Braska's courage."

"I know." Yuna said through her tears. "I just wanted him around afterward, he made so many people happy. I thought Sin might leave him alone. But now you're here, and you wouldn't be if my father was still alive."

Yuna started crying again, but this time instead of standing there, Kimahri placed one hand on her head and stroked her hair until she calmed down.

***

The fireworks had long ended before Yuna pulled back from Kimahri a much calmer person. Once again, she looked up at the monster who had come to take her from the city. Strange, he didn't seem so scary now. His face, was kind of like the cats who roamed in and out of the temples, and the broken bit of horn on his forehead seemed more silly than anything.

If he were going to eat her, wouldn't he have done so while she sat around crying? He wasn't so bad, and better than staying at the temples while everyone celebrated.

"Can we leave tonight?" Suddenly she was eager to go on an adventure with her new friend.

"Yuna go back to temple. Get belongings."

"I don't need belongings," Yuna said. "We can get new things on the road."

"Kimahri not have much gil."

She stepped back from him, assessing her new body guard. "Takko at the temple said the the fiends have gil on them. So all you have to do is kill a few fiends and we'll be okay. You look strong."

"Kimahri still young Ronso. Not experienced. Yuna go back to temple for belongings." In the moon light his eyes gleamed an eerie gold color, and while Yuna did want to argue, she had a feeling he wouldn't move on this.

"I don't have to talk to anyone, right? If I go back to get my things, we can leave tonight, right?" She wanted to be out of Bevelle.

Kimahri nodded, and Yuna thought she could see his teeth wrap around a small smile. "Kimahri and Yuna leave tonight."

With a whoosh, Yuna's feet left the ground as Kimahri picked her up. Before she could scream or yell or protest, she was suddenly riding on the giant's shoulders, and taking in a much different view of the city she'd lived in all her life.


	8. Among his Own Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri wants Auron to be with his own kind, so why does he take the guardian to an Al Bhed in. Takes place after "Dry Grasses"

_If there's something any person deserves, it's to die among their own kind._

The ride to the "Agency" as the man with the beast had called it was rough, but much faster that even Kimahri could have run unladen. Auron's condition had not improved during the ride, but the small outpost perched among the vast scarred earth gave Kimahri at least some hope that somehow the dying man could pull through.

No. Kimahri's inner sense felt the certainty of death in Auron's visage. If the man held on now, it was only to finish things somehow.

"Master Rin! You're back. We weren't expecting you so soon. And where are the goods from the Ronso?"

"Plans changed." Rin gestured to where Auron slept confined in the grasp of the moving-thing. "Set up a bed for him. It might be too late for him, but we can spare a couple of potions for his comfort. You. Ronso. You can help us by carrying Sir Auron until we can get him someplace to rest."

"Kimahri will help." The humans were too weak to carry one of their own, so Kimahri understood his place. His hands fumbled with the fastenings that secured Auron, but soon he had freed his companion and slung Auron like a supply pack over his shoulders.

As much as Kimahri had heard of some of the wonderful structures humans built, Rin's particular agency didn't count among them. Just a small booth with supplies, and a larger awning covered area tucked into a small niche made the area, and Auron's bed-- or more accurately bedroll-- lay underneath the awning area.

The worker brought a lantern and some vials of vivid green liquid. Under the watchful supervision of Rin, she tipped two of them into Auron's mouth. The darker man sputtered and cough, and then his eyes opened a bit.

Once, twice, Auron tried to slide into a sitting position only to be defeated by his weakened body. Rin motioned for him to stop. "Please Sir Auron, we do not wish for you to be uncomfortable."

"Comfort is the admission of defeat of the body over the mind. I need no such thing." Despite the words, he remained lying down.

"Don't be foolish. You are in no condition to do anything. I'll have one of the retired priests here take you to Bevelle in the morning." Rin said a lot of things in those words, Kimahri noticed, but the unsaid drowned out the noise in his sensitive ears. The human knew as well as the Ronso that Auron could not possibly live much longer. Did Auron know?

Auron coughed and some of the half-healing wounds opened anew. The worker did her best to stop the damage again, like using a pebble to stop an avalanche.

"Don't involve Bevelle. They don't need to know that I'm in this condition." His head turned slightly towards Kimahri. "You brought me here?"

"When Ronso goes to die, all Ronso gather around and watch the dying Ronso. Elders say it is because everyone deserves to go surrounded by people they call their own. Kimahri thinks human deserves same honor."

Kimahri smelled rather than saw the awkward glances passing from human to human to human. He worried that might have offended then somehow before Rin spoke up.

"I knew Sir Braska and his guardians Sir Auron and Sir Jecht, and I consider them my friends. But there are many others who will tell you that we Al Bhed are not the same kind as Sir Auron."

Another amused cough from Auron. "Don't be stupid, my kind is anyone who hates Sin and wishes him gone forever. And anyone who's ever done something rash for a good purpose. Any other distinctions are meaningless."

"Sir Auron--" the worker got up to protest speaking so much. "You shouldn't exert..."

"My life has been decided. I will say what needs saying, and you will all listen to the ramblings of a crazy man on the verge of dying. I've lived my life and done more than anyone has a right to, and now my only regret is that I will leave promises unfulfilled."

"What are these promises?" Rin stepped in and continued the conversation.

"Take Yuna to Besaid. Braska thought new scenery would help her. The Ronso promised...to help me with that." Auron's breath grew ragged. "The other...Jecht's son...I vowed that I would look after him and bring him here... I don't know....I'll find a way." Auron's voice cracked out, having finally soaked up all the medicine from the potions, and the warrior fell unconscious again.

Three people sat vigil that night underneath the star-specked sky of the Calm Lands. A lantern glowed like a firefly shading pale illumination on a man who's breath grew painstakingly hard. One by one though, they all drifted into a shallow sleep.

Kimahri, last to sleep, woke first to the pale pinks and grays of a false dawn. Rin and the woman who worked for him lay propped up against a natural wall, but Auron's bedroll had been deserted. He fought off the urge to run and chase the dying man until the puzzle finally came together.

If he'd had tear ducts, Kimahri might have shed a few tears for the who had given him purpose, but his heart knew the truth. Death happened to everything in Spira, and if it had not greeted him in the safety of the Travel Agency, a fiend would be more than happy to introduce the two.

"I'll find a way." Auron's last words stuck in his head. The guardian had spoken as if he had more time, that he could last as long as there was something he had to do."

Images of human beliefs, told to him by the Ronso elder rose in Kimahri's head. Death robbed humans of their bodies, but their souls remained until sent to the Farplane by a summoner. Those left unsent turned into fiends. If someone had the resolve...could they control what made the fiends and use them? Did Auron think of doing that somehow.

Kimahri waved goodbye to the sleeping Al Bhed and looked out to the Calm Lands. Suddenly it became much more important that he find this Yuna and fulfill one of Auron's last promises. In the Ronso salute, he curled his paw to his fist and raise it to his chest, saluting a man he had known less than two days, but had somehow become a friend and a reason.


	9. Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri suspects something about Auron. Spoilers regarding Auron if you have not actually played through the game. Companion Piece to 'Gratitude.'

People had a way of knowing things, Kimahri thought. Ronso, Guado, Human, Al Bhed, even the Hypello all seemed to sense the same truths around them, even if the methods were different. And now, Kimahri thought, looking at the aged shell of the man who had set him on his path, those ways of knowing seemed to converge around Auron.

Long ago, Kimahri had carried Auron across the Calm Lands, and heard the man struggle to breathe. Even if it was no Ronso's business how Auron had came by those injuries, Kimahri had felt the last bit of Auron's effort in those moments. It was possible that he had somehow recovered enough in the night to move and had found one last elixir stashed away in his coat pocket. His time among humans had made him see the possibility, but the Ronso that still made up his being scoffed at the impossibility.

Still... he didn't want to say anything. Not without knowing. Not without understanding.

Two nameless Guado led them from the corridor that separated the underground city of Guadosalam to the Farplane, where summoners sent the souls of the dead. No one talked, except for the Pup who asked the questions about the Farplane as if he had never seen a sending, or learned the fundamental questions of life and death. Perhaps he had not. Kimahri had his own knowings about the Pup as well, this boy who had washed ashore in Besaid the day Yuna started her journey, but he could not understand like he could with Auron.

Everyone marched solemn to the entrance of the Farplane, with the posture of weary stress and the scents of anxiety emanating from everyone except the pup who did not know there was anything to be anxious about. Kimahri looked ahead wondering who, if anyone, he would see.

The walked to the last corridor before the entrance of the Farplane, a rocky road surrounded by an emptiness that was almost sky. Auron stopped here, as well as Rikku.

"I do not belong there." Auron said as an excuse, and Kimahri heard the opposite in his actions. Auron, for one so revered for his bravery, acted afraid. He shrank back from the Farplane entrance as the flowers shrank away from the snow on Gagazet.

Kimahri nodded deliberately, looking at Auron, and there in a brief flicker of motion that Kimahri's senses didn't quite catch, a gauzy pyrefly escaped from the Farplane. No one else seemed to notice, although Auron took a few steps back and staggered. Kimahri did more than notice, he knew.

Rikku and Auron stayed behind. Rikku for her beliefs as one of the Al Bhed, and Auron for his aversion or attraction to the place. Kimahri could have stayed behind, and do as the humans do, and speak of suspicions, but he belonged with Yuna, so even as his Ronso heart hoped not to find anyone from his past life, neither the warriors who trained him, nor the foster mother who raised him, nor the two people who had created his life.

But Kimahri did nod to Auron, before stepping away, to let Auron understand that Kimahri knew his secret.


	10. Bevelle's Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri braves the sensory overload of Bevelle to search for Yuna.

Bevelle was the human Gagazet, Kimahri translated as he stepped out of the forest and onto the main road that wound through Spira's largest city. Like the mountain, the city extended towards the clouds, the most important buildings at the pinnacle, while the majority of the human clans camped around the base.

The city might have been mountain-like in how it towered over it's people, but it's gaudy decorations and throngs of people contrasted directly with the austerity of Gagazet and it's single tribe of Ronso. Every turn brought new assault to his senses; each building more brightly colored and intricately designed than the ones below. Merchants at the open market advertised their wares against a backdrop of humming and drumming in a peculiar song. No matter where he stood, someone or something always seemed to brush by him so that even in the largest city pressed in on his mind and body in a way that even the Ronso tribe, with its close-knit members, would not have tolerated.

For all that though, the smells overwhelmed Kimahri on his search for the child Yuna. Smoke from a thousand cook fires converged at his nostrils to make a scent so thick his tongue tasted the fire. More smoke from lit incense added extra spice that clashed with the cloying sweetness from somewhere else. And between those, and the smells of every individual who passed him, the effect sent Kimahri longing for any respite.

Yet he continued on, knowing that moving forward and finding Yuna would save him from the weight of civilization faster than simply resting in a quiet corner. So while he closed his eyes and tried to recall Gagazet in his mind, he thought of where to find his new charge.

The temples. Elder Kelk had explained how humans confined their holy places to specific buildings, and how they worshiped by going to these temples, but how even temples served more purpose than just worship. As a Ronso youth learned lessons from Gagazet, human children took their lessons from priests at the temple, and for children who no longer had blood family to take care of them, the temples opened the doors.

As the high-summoner's daughter, Yuna would especially be welcome into the embrace of the temple, and Kimahri could think of no other place to look for her. When he opened his eyes the path became clearer, and the people became droplets of water in a living river, flowing around Kimahri.

The smells still lingered on, but as he went higher the intensity lessened. The higher he climbed up the Bevelle path, the fewer humans lingered on the streets. Unwashed bodies gradually gave way to humans wrapped in flowers, and not so many suppers being cooked. Merchants here operated inside, and Kimahri felt himself come under so much scrutiny.

Kimahri noticed the growing number of people who watched him walk on the cobbled path. Where below he might have been a passing curiosity for the crowds, everyone had other things to care about than a lone Ronso. Upwards, in the wealthy districts where only important people trod, he became a commodity.

His sensitive ears picked up the whispers. What business did a broken-horned Ronso have here? Was he someone important, or sent by Maester Kelk for some errand? Did he come to bring harm or blessings to the people of Bevelle. Two guards, weapons hidden, tailed Kimahri, trying to be silent as they followed his every move. No matter how stealthy they tried to be, Kimahri still smelled their scent, human mixed with leather and a faint metallic tang.

For now they remained harmless, and Kimahri sought nothing of trouble on this constructed mountain. He strode on, until the temple appeared in his sight. Priests and summoners rushed around on the grounds, and the smells of exotic food, gunpowder from fireworks, and fragrant burning herbs assaulted him again.

A nun approached him with a stack of dishes that made giants of his hands, apparently not seeing Kimahri's otherness. "You," she commanded, "Take these over to Father Doran," she gestured to a tonsured man standing near one of the tables. And with that, the human turned to another person, one of the guards who had followed him incidentally, and assigned him the task of clearing out leaves and other debris from the grounds.

The years of obedience ingrained in Kimahri from his training silenced the willful part of him, and carried those plates to Father Doran, who unlike the nun, took notice of Kimahri's towering form, and his Ronso features.

"A Ronso? In Bevelle?" The man asked, amazed.

"Kimahri brings dishes. Searches for Yuna." Kimahri answered the unstated question before the priest could say it aloud. In a gesture of piece, he offered the stack of plates to the dazed Doran.

The man snapped out of his trance and forced his neck back to look Kimahri in his eyes. So used to being the small one, Kimahri still marveled that he towered over every human he had seen in Spira so far.

"Oh yes of course, dishes. You can-you can set them on that table right there." Father Doran looked away again, as if he had something more important to think of.

"Father Doran knows where Yuna is?"

"Yuna? Lord Braska's daughter? I mean, I-I can't tell you that. Temple security and all that...you understand, right?"

"Kimahri understands duty. Needs to find Yuna to fulfill own duty."

"I-I can't help you. To tell the truth, no one's seen Lord Braska's daughter since-since the calm came."

At that, Kimahri started thinking again. If a Ronso child had been lost, the mother would have gathered something of his and brought it to the tribe. One by one, all the warriors would sniff to get the scent of the missing child into their smell-memory. If the temple did not have Yuna, they might have a thing of hers, and Kimahri could track her that way.

"Yuna have something here?"

"I'll-I'll have to see...wait here, I'm sure we can help."

For such a small thing in a long robe, he moved from Kimahri's sight quickly. For hours though, he remained gone, as the sun set, and the bonfires lit around the temples. He stayed still, waiting with interminable patience until he saw the man walk out of the temple, and promptly join another group of priests as if Kimahri the Ronso had never existed.

One, two fists clenched, as Kimahri choked down a roar of fury. He needed something of Yuna to track her, or someone who would know where the girl was.

"Hey... are you a fiend?" A tug on his tail coincided with the high-pitched question. A little girl with reddish brown hair and a scared expression on her face looked at him.

Kimahri shook his head. Such a preposterous question deserved no more.

"Tenna and the others want to know what you're doing here at the party... you're not eating or watching the fireworks."

"Kimahri searches for Yuna."

"Oh Yuna! I know Yuna! She sleeps in my room, but we haven't seen her since her daddy beat Sin."

Finally, something slightly useful, and Kimahri bent on one knee to talk to the little girl. "Child have something of Yuna's?"

"She still has things in my room. She didn't take anything, not even her favorite moogle doll. I can show you!" The little girl bounced around from table to table rushing towards the temple, yet it only took Kimahri four or five full strides to catch up to her.

If anyone thought a little girl leading a Ronso through the temple was strange, no one seemed to care enough to say anything, as everyone, even the guards where laughing, eating, and drinking their fill.

"See...this is our room. Yuna's things are right there, and Kupo is on her bed. That's her most favoritest doll in the world."

The toy fit in Kimahri's palm, and with delicate care, he sniffed the fabric. Beyond the smells of the temple that had soaked in, one distinct human smell stood out, the one that presumably would lead him to Yuna. With care he lay the doll on the bed, in the exact spot it had been before the little girl picked it up.

"Kimahri thanks child."

He barely heard her "You're welcome" before he exited the temple and moved upwind. He had a girl to find, and a trail to follow across Bevelle.


	11. Blitz-off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri and young Yuna go to a Blitzball Game.

Kimahri had once heard from the Ronso Blitzball team that match days were the craziest days anywhere in Spira. Walking into Luca, all docks closed off until the current tournament ended, and seeing the place filled with loud music and even louder drunks, he could believe them.

On his shoulders, perched above the crowd with cotton candy in one hand, Yuna shouted everything she could see. She talked all at once, about blitzball and tickets and how Sir Jecht was a great blitzball player back in Zanarkand, and then she'd point out "A Hypello!" or "A Guado!" somewhere in the crowd of mostly humans.

"A Ronso!" Yuna shouted out, pointing her finger just slightly too the left. "He's a lot taller than you, Kimahri."

He grimaced, as he walked through the crowd.

"And his horn isn't broken off like yours!"

Kimahri walked faster, using his Ronso eyes to find the quickest path through all the motion.

"Can we go say "Hi" to him? I haven't met any other Ronso before."

"Kimahri cannot."

"Why not?"

"Kimahri is not tribe member anymore."

"Why not?"

"Kimahri lost fight and left mountain. Ronso not accept Kimahri anymore."

"Oh. You could just say you're sorry."

"Kimahri needs to take Yuna to Besaid. Then will say sorry."

He could sense Yuna settling down when she said that. The heels of her feet stopped pounding against the straps of his harness and her free hand stopped tugging on one of his braid.

"Can we go see a game?" Her voice seemed quiet, almost thoughtful. "We could cheer and cheer and cheer. And then the stadium would get all lit up."

"Kimahri not have ticket."

"They sell them at the gate too. All the leftover seats. Jecht told me. It's mid season too, so not as many people are here."

"Kimahri sees lots of people."

"There will be seats. And we kill a lot of fiends so we have lots of gil."

"Kimahri will see."

The line of people, though long, did not stretch to the outside of Luca stadium as Kimahri had expected. Yuna tugged on one braid triumphantly. "See, I told you."

"Yuna was right. Kimahri sorry."

"Now, when someone moves up, you move up too. And then when you get to the counter you say "Two please", and then you say that you're going to cheer for the Zanarkand Abes."

"Zanarkand is ruined city beyond Gagazet."

"Sir Jecht said that the Zanarkand Abes were the best team ever."

"Zanarkand Abes not playing today."

"Aww...well, then we can cheer for Luca. Since that's the home team."

Kimahri nodded as he stepped forward in line, as the ticket man shouted "Next!" The line moved much faster than Kimahri thought it would. Perhaps because of the rushed atmosphere of the day.

"Next!"

"It's our turn, Kimahri!"

Kimahri stepped up to the window, the pouch of Gil heavy in his hand. "Two tickets. Luca."

"Sorry. All sold out on Luca. Another team perhaps. Hear the Fangs are gonna go pretty far this year." Despite the words, the hume man at the window seemed dispassionate. Another day at his job perhaps.

Kimahri shook his head. "No Fangs. Besaid."

"Besaid-- Um... sir, are you looking for a blitzball show or a comedy. Because there's a good comedy playing at the theater...Days of my Shoopuf."

"Kimahri and I are going to Besaid, and we're going to live there."

"I see. I see. Be warned. It's a beautiful island, but I'm sure with all the falling blitz balls it might not be safe. 500 gil please."

Kimahri reached into the purse, his hands counting out the diminutive coins, and slapped them down on the counter. Two tickets were produced and Kimahri took the thin scraps of paper in his hands. "Just go up there, and present them to the guard." The man behind the counter informed him as he walked away.

Kimahri did so, relieved when the guard who tore the stubs off the tickets nodded without saying a word and told them how to find 36D and 36E.

***

"I can't see Kimarhi. Can you tell the guy in front of me to lower his head?"

Kimahri shook his head. "Change seats with Kimahri. Short woman in front of him."

The uncontrolled crowd outside the stadium hand suddenly become an ordered ring around the blitzsphere. Some sections, Luca, Killika, Al Bhed were near to overfilling, with the Guado and Ronso sections slightly less, perhaps because of the larger distance that needed to be traveled. And, Kimahri thought, the special permission required for a Ronso to leave Gagazet. Kimahri brought his head to the sparse Besaid section before he became tempted to search the Ronso crowd for someone he knew.

"Welcome everyone! Do we have a show for you today! It's the Al Bhed Psyches vs. the Ronso Fangs, the Luca Goers vs. the Besaid Aurochs. And the Killika Beasts vs. the Guado Glories. It's gonna be a day to remember, isn't that right, Jimma?"

"Absolutely right, Bobba! It's the Calm Season and everyone is ready to give their best! So let's get to the action!"

On cue, the sound of water rumbling in pipes started and the the clear glass sphere in the middle of the stadium filled up with water. The captain and teams stood in front of their session working the crowd before the match. Yuna, initially reluctant to cheer for the Aurochs became just as caught up as the others in their section, going to far to even stand up in her seat and shout and wave her arms at the captain. One of the members, a young rookie judging by his scrawny frame, smiled at Yuna and pumped his fist in the air. Kimahri almost smiled.

"Our first match of the day is the Al Bhed Psyches. Now, the Psyches are our current champions, but Gerim Ronso is definitely a genius at defense. It could be anyone's game..."

Though he tried not to, Kimahri searched the dome for a face or bearing that he knew from Gagazet. Some of the younger players, Gerim for instance, would have been in a year-mate in training and chosen for the Ronso blitz team for his unusual lack of apprehension for water, while others would have been famous on Gagazet, though many of the older ones chose to live in Luca for access to better training. Perhaps...he could become a servant for them, when he left Yuna at Besaid.

A buzzer sounded. Psyches 1. Fangs 0. Kimahri concealed any reaction, not that he was sure exactly what that reaction would be if he expressed it. He opened his eyes and breathed, letting his eyes follow the action in the sphere, and not letting his nose try to identify the Ronso in the crowd. Halftime. Still Psyches 1. Ronso 0. A rendition of the blitzers theme played over speakers in the stadiums, and everyone sang in a half-out-of tune pitch that sounded more like 1000 individual high-volume shouts than a song.

Second half, and Kimahri noticed the Ronso upping their game, stealing the ball from the Psyches, and playing the elaborate game of keep-away Ronso children used to play with a blitzball. Gerim had always been annoyingly good at that game. The offense lacked though. None of that warrior spirit had been infused into these Lucan Ronso, who spent their time training for blitzball, not battle. He saw openings, and he was tempted to stand up and scream at the dome. He did not though. And by the time the buzzer rang, the Al Bhed had not scored another goal, but neither had the Ronso.

"Your team lost Kimahri." Yuna said matter-of-factly.

"Fangs not Kimahri's team."

"The Fangs are a Ronso team, and you're a Ronso."


	12. Magic Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Macalania Woods has a strange effect on people. Takes place after "Over Bridges"

Yuna slept on his shoulders as Kimahri exited the city limits of Bevelle. All the better, Kimahri thought, the sun wouldn't be up for a few more hours, so Kimahri had a few hours of peace before his charge woke and he had to listen to her chatter.

Civilization dried up nearly immediately, melting into a pale-frosted forest, and Kimahri let out a breath he'd been partially holding all the time in Bevelle. The hornless had started his duty, the child slept peacefully on his shoulders, he would fulfill his promise for the dying man, though Kimahri knew he wandered somewhere.

Branches seemed to reach out to touch Kimahri while still warning him to keep his distance. Danger lurks here, they said to him, Do not linger here.

Had he not been roaming and searching the entire day before, Kimahri would have moved quickly from the seductive forest, but Yuna's weight on his shoulders added to the days events made him long for a little sleep.

The scent of water brought Kimahri to a natural spring and an overnight camp. A blanket and her moogle doll would make a decent bed for Yuna, and Kimahri himself needed little more than solid ground to get a satisfactory nap.

Careful not to wake her, Kimahri set up her bedding near a sheltered outcrop of trees, making sure to hide her from any wandering fiends before he took his own rest just in front of her. He sat, knees gathered to his chest as he forced himself into the warrior's sleep. Both eyes focused on the bare sliver of the moon above and lulled Kimahri into a meditation the bridged the gap between alertness and slumber.

Kimahri couldn't tell how many minutes or hours passed when the blue butterfly landed on his nose or whether it really existed outside his mind. The legs of the insect tickled his nose, causing Kimahri to lift his paw to swipe at it. The moonlight reflected in the butterfly's wings distracting his eyes to the forest beyond them.

His body rose from its crouch, and for a moment, Kimahri's mind stayed behind, watching his body leave the spring and walk forward into the woods. The one glance he fit into the time before his mind followed his body reassured him that Yuna was indeed safe.

Fallen branches, so ancient and close that Kimahri wondered if time had fused them together, made a terrestrial path through the woods. Above him, it seemed as though the stars had descended to pave a path around the treetops. The butterfly rose to the higher path, and the Ronso followed, giving no thoughts to the world below.

Every dip and detour the butterfly took, Kimahri followed. For this moment, body remained separate from mind, and all the Kimahri mind could do was watch and trail the errant Kimahri body. No horn, small form he chanted to himself as he saw for the first time what all the other Ronso had seen what they had jeered him.

Kimahri...Kimahri wasn't his form though, or else he would walk the sparkling road and not see himself. Kimahri was this awareness, and if the body were smaller and weaker, could his mind not gain strength through service.

Do his duty. Do what the others asked of him. Strong. Silent. Submissive.

The butterfly stopped at a sphere embedded in one of the treetops, and his mind and body stood next to each other as a bird-man appeared before him.

"The end starts tonight, the burden you carry will be responsible for many things that will happen in the future. Much magic will die for her mission, but the woods will gladly sacrifice what they have." A flick of the wrist, and the gleaming sound of the harp, and the person disappeared in a burst of twinkling shards.

"Kimahri..."

At the sound of the voice, Kimahri returned to consciousness. Trance ended. Mind rejoined body. Yuna stood at the spring, one hand rubbing the sleep from her eyes, while the other carried her doll. "Where are we? Did you sleepwalk?"

"Kimahri did not sleepwalk"

"Are you sure? Because I kept calling your name, and you didn't wake up. Shelli at the temple sleepwalked, and she was exactly the same way."

"Kimahri sorry he did not hear Yuna." Taking Yuna's hand in his, Kimahri walked down to the ground, suddenly feeling the need for his feet to dig into actual ground. They walked in silence to the encampment, as perfectly undisturbed as it had been when they arrived.

"It's so pretty here. I wish we could stay." Yuna said, as she sat back down on her blanket.

Kimahri shook his head. "Besaid Island."

"But what if Besaid isn't as pretty?"

"Besaid will be pretty if Yuna wants it to be."

"Oh." The girl curled up on her blanket, seeming to accept Kimahri's answer to her question.

Kimahri took his former place on the outcropping, and prepared to go back into the warriors sleep, when her voice interrupted him.

"Do you think there will be butterflies there, too?"

Kimahri hoped not.


	13. Star of Zanarkand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuna makes another choice at Zanarkand.

_"Hope is comforting. It allows us to accept our fate, how ever tragic it might be."_

The words sounded hollow to everyone's ears, Kimahri's most of all. Perhaps the echoes the wide area evoked that feeling, or maybe the content itself rang like tin against their hearts.

Hope required chance, and though they could easily create temporary peace, they did not have a chance going the traditional way. Spread across the faces bodies of each of his companions, Kimahri saw various levels of resistance. A grimace here, a clenched fist there, averted eye-contact from the more devout confronting unpleasant truths. Kimahri impassive, as he watched Yuna for a cue, any cue to their actions.

He belonged to her.

After ten years, he could read her mind, or very nearly so. She seemed so conflicted that moment. She wanted to take arms against Yunalesca, but at what cost? If she lost, one would have to rise up and make the same sacrifices If they won, and there was no other way, would she doom Spira to an eternity of Sin without any means of gaining respite. If she decided to accept what Yunalesca told her, would she lose the chance to change Spira permanently, and exit the spiral.

The others continued to look around blankly, or finish exhausting arguments. Kimahri waited, and watched the face of his summoner. His spear hung heavy on his back, eager for a chance to prove itself in battle again. Yet his heart remained open and strong if he were needed to fill a statue as empty as Spira's hope.

There. One moment and Yuna made her decision. "I've made my choice." Yuna whispered soft enough to silence the room. "I will die for the people of Spira. If there was a way to defeat Sin without the Final Aeon, I would have fought you. I hate this tradition, but I cannot abandon the people in my care for the sake of a gamble."

"So who will it be? Who will you choose for me to turn into the Fayth of the Final Summoning, the Final Aeon." If Yunalesca heard or comprehended anything beyond the resignation to her tradition, she didn't give any indications.

Kimahri knew from the start of the journey who Yuna's choice would be. He closed his eyes, and felt Yuna step towards him. "Kimahri, will you accept the burden of becoming my Final Aeon."

Ten years of living with humans made him wonder if he should have said something more formal, if he should have bowed or knelt, or made some ceremony out of this moment. The need to end this moment, difficult for everyone who watched, took precedence though.

A slow nod, and the words "Kimahri accepts." was all the ritual needed for them.

Kimahri didn't remember much between the moment of his acceptance, and the moment his body literally flew to the empty sky above them, and then in the one moment of freedom, he saw his body disintegrate into shining dust, supposedly to join the millions of stars that shone above the ruined city.

The impression would last forever, even inside the beast. Even as Kimahri became the beast, he would never forget this moment.

_Kimahri. Do you hear me Kimahri?_

Yuna's voice brought him back to the dimly lit temple. His summoner kneeled before him, prostrate, and near tears.

_Kimahri hears Yuna._

_Will you...will you listen to me Kimahri?_

_Kimahri will listen._

_This was right, to save Spira for now. I wanted to stand and fight, Kimahri, but I didn't because I couldn't sacrifice the lives of everyone else for something I didn't know. But I'm not sure anymore if I made the right choice. I could have changed the world, but even if we hope that this will be the last time, Sin will come back again._

_Yuna did what she thought was best._

_I did what I knew was safe for the rest of the world for the next few months, maybe a year. It's funny, I was so sure of everything on the journey until the very end. I can do anything now, and no one will judge me, so how come I chose to do this?_

_Yuna chose. That's all that matters. Kimahri stands by Yuna, whatever she chooses._

_Thank you, Kimahri. I'll do my best._

Summoner and Aeon united on that eternal Zanarkand night, and false hope lived again.


	14. Money for the Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin works his salesman magic on Kimahri.

"Hello. May I help you?" Rin sounded as cordial as always, with the same smell of perfumed grease that had always followed him these days. Somehow even the stress of living on the Airship, and seeing Home destroyed, still left the man polished and smiling.

"Kimahri browsing."

"I see... for a new armlet, perhaps?" Rin opened one of his many special cases, the ones he always carried his merchandise in. "As you can see I have quite the selection right here."

Almost unconsciously, Kimahri ran the fingers of his right hand over his armor, suddenly taking note of how many nicks and scratches seemed to mar the surface, and how dented parts seemed to be. He had worn the same armlet since the start of the journey, preferring to think about stronger arms than stronger armor.

"Well, you perhaps might be interested in this model here. This is Elemental Armlet. If Lulu gets angry and unleashes the black magic, then you will be safe."

Kimahri shook his head. Lulu, for her famous temper, had the self-control of the saint, having kept Wakka in line since they were children. "Kimahri not afraid."

"Well, how about this one? Made especially for Ronso. Defends against four status ailments, so when you and Lady Yuna and the rest of her guardians go dungeon delving and run into a Malboro, you will be safe from his bad breath."

"How much are nose plugs?"

"I'm sorry sir. I'm afraid we don't carry nose plugs here. But we do have this nice armlet made for Ronsos. Have you ever been confused?"

"Kimahri confused now."

"No, no. I mean. Have you ever been confused in the heat of the battle, and you accidentally lash out at one of your teammates?"

Kimahri shook his head. "Kimahri not remember."

"Has one of your teammates ever been confused in the heat of battle, and accidentally lashed out at you."

"Once pup dropped sword on Kimahri's toe. Turned out sword was too heavy."

Rin sighed and stroked his chin where a beard would belong. "Confusion is a terrible ailment, especially in battle. This armor not only protects against confusion. It also protects against poison, blindness, and silence. Shall we try it on?"

Not seeing any reason not to humor the man, Kimahri took off his old armlet, noticing with a bland disinterest that it seemed to have rusted on the underside, most likely from their trek across the Thunder Plains. Rin took Kimahri's arm carefully, and clipped the new armlet over the matted fur.

Kimahri lifted his arm, waving it in the air and swinging it forward and back and left and right, to get a feel for the weight of the armor. It seemed heavier than his last one.

"Seems heavy."

"Of course it is sir. This old armlet of yours is made from shoddy tin. The one you are trying on now is made from high-grade mythril, salvaged from the best scrap metal found in the Bikanel desert, and crafted by the finest Al-Bhed technicians."

Once, twice, Kimahri tapped it with a claw experimentally, listening to the low clink it made with each tap. It definitely felt better made, but did the shoddy tin really matter that much. That old armlet had kept him alive through all this time. And for all the claims of it avoiding confusing, Kimahri felt even more confused.

"Kimahri confused. Armlet protect against confusion."

"Oh pardon me sir," Rin undid the armlet, and placed it back in its velvet covered spot. "The confusion protection only works against external confusion, the kind that is inflicted upon you through toxin. Nothing save for a good fish and a good book can really protect against internal confusion. I have some great old literature here somewhere, including copies from the epic poem of Baajira, that will educate your mind and protect you against confusion."

"No, Kimahri understands. How much is armlet."

Rin's face broke into the smile of a true negotiator, like the old medicine woman when a needy Ronso came to her. "Ahh, well, that is a finely crafted piece of armor, but since Lady Yuna and her guardians have been such good customers. I am pleased to say that I can go as low as 74999 gil. Plus tax of course."

From the pouch at his belt, drooping with his share of the gil hoarded since the start of their journey. No...he pulled one of the coins from the bottom of the pouch, since he and Yuna arrived on Besaid. There were about 80000 gil give or take a couple of thousand.

Kimahri opened the pouch, and showed some of the tiny colored coins to Rin.

"I see...I see that you have the means to pay. Are those yellow ones thousand pieces?"

Kimahri nodded.

"Yes, yes." Rin looked up in the air and looked as if he were making his calculations. "With tax... I would say it's about 79,000 gil."

Kimahri just left the pouch with Rin.


	15. Weapons of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ronso warriors are their own weapons, to be finely honed.

Zurl looked at the ranks of the green recruits, pups who had never heard the voice of their true mountain mother, much less the cries of war. They stood at attention, holding their wooden practice spears in the attention position. All were looking to be the next great hunter, the next great warrior. It was up to Zurl to put that into them.

"Ronso attention!" He noticed with a faint anger how much straighter their postures had become when he said that. "Ronso warriors always walk tall," he snapped, his attention turned towards the Runt.

The Runt stood at the very end of the line, his eyes level and his gaze steady, and somehow had the impression that the Runt could stand no taller than he did already. "You!" Zurl swept his own practice spear at the Runt's legs, bringing the boy to the ground. The Runt grimaced for a second, but already he had learned the Ronso secret of disguising his reactions. A Runt had to.

The other trainees laughed giving rough guffaws, and the boy Biran, already as tall as his mother and soon to outgrow his father, led the taunting. "Kimahri fall. Kimahri fall."

The Runt looked ahead, his posture even and level as he looked at the mountain ahead.

"This Runt too small to be warrior. Should have learned magic like female. Should have learned fiend secrets and cooking, and then taken a husband." Zurl taunted the boy, and the others' laughter grew in pitch and volume. And yet, the Runt did not show a reaction, except to look on the mountain.

"Kimahri puny even for female!" Yenke, close friend of Biran, though smaller joined in the taunting. And still, the Runt did not say anything.

Zurl looked on as the training session turned into a joke on the smallest Ronso, and then used his powers to end it. Down the line, one by one, he tripped all of the other Ronso, noticing the satisfying crashes as they all hit the snow. The Runt, at the very end of the line stepped back as the spear swung, staying up in the snow.

And still, the Runt showed little reaction.

"Ronso warriors always defend other warriors!" Zurl shouted, "Even the Runt! If war comes, or hunt goes bad, Ronso help Ronso! Runt, help Trainees up!"

The Runt followed orders, his head bowed as he offered his hands to each Ronso in line, ten in all, and none who gave resistance but the giant Biran and friend Yenke. Biran pulled Kimahri down into the snow bank a second time, causing the Ronso to grimace again, but no other reaction. When Yenke tried, Kimahri stumbled but escaped the grasp before he could take a third dive into the snow.

"Biran and Yenke do not want help!" Zurl shouted. "When Biran and Yenke are lost in blizzard, let them find own way back to camp!"

The youth looked chastised, and Zurl looked at each recruit in their turn. So much he must teach them, about being a warrior, and being a Ronso, even the Runt.

***

Kimahri walked down from his first day of training sore and wet from the melting snow trapped in his fur. He expected the treatment. What he had not expected from Zurl was fairness, nor had he expected to be so blank, when every part of his whole wanted to erupt with anger.

"Kimahri, come here." Kishana's fire beckoned him, and the old wise woman and his adoptive Grandmother was a welcome face at the end of the day.

"How does Kimahri take training?"

"Kimahri is Runt. Kimahri is angry."

Kishana took his hands, her claws scratching gently on the loose skin over one of the knuckles. "Good Ronso warriors always angry. Always strive to improve themselves. Good Ronso warriors use spears as weapons, but Ronso warriors are also focused weapons in hunt and in war. Kishana does not always agree with Zurl, but Zurl has difficult task. He must teach not only skill, but also how to be Ronso."

"Kimahri is Ronso."

"Kimahri is pup. To be Ronso, but not yet." Kishana let go of his hands and resumed her work, shredding greens to be roasted with the meat. "Kimahri may be Runt now, but Kimahri may be more than Runt later. Kimahri must focus."

Kimahri bowed. "Kimahri will focus."

Kishana drew her lips back, baring her teeth in amusement. "Kimahri better become warrior. Kimahri could not learn women's secrets, not intelligent enough." The same laugh as his classmates, but gentle.

Kimahri walked off, that much closer to becoming honed.


	16. Carving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri sits upon the beach after Sin.

The only time Kimahri goes to the beach is in the aftermath of an attack. Far enough afterwards that people have finished with clearing away the old lives, and started their paranoid existence. Far enough afterward that the crusaders returned to their normal schedule of training and patrol. But still close enough that the smell of Sin lingered on the shore, yet to be washed away by the endless rhythm of waves.

People say they worship water, as one worships Yevon, or the Ronso beneath their guise of loyalty in Bevelle worship Gagazet as they always have. But Kimahri senses no love for water among the people of Besaid. Their reverence is fear, their relationship to it, children who seek to conquer their fears. Biltz compels, not for the simple joy of sport, but because the athletes with their breath and muscles defy the will of water, the space of Sin.

He walks on the shore, counting each perfect wave as it swells and breaks across his toes. The sand still bothers the pads of his feet, but he endures, to spend this time thinking in solitude, to lay to rest his own unease with shores and the water that lies beyond. For of all Spira, the waters alone do not speak to his inner being.

One must always stay in one's element, and Kimahri is the earth and the winds, moist heat and dry colds that make the mountain and the jungles. The waters beyond, they are for blitzers, or the crazy beings who fear Sin no more than they fear confinement to lands. But where earth and water meet, Kimahri must sit and watch and meditate.

Driftwood, perhaps a plank off the fallen dock, washed up on shore again, weeks after the attack and smoothed by its journey among the waves. Kimahri feels the grain, refined from the pressure on it, and it calls for his hands to shape it. From the pouch on his belt he draws a knife, big enough to be awkward in a human's hands, but the handle fits into his right palm perfectly.

He sits on the shoreline, letting the water cover his knees and lap as he shapes the wood into something else, a shaving here and sliver there, more and more while the smoothness of the plank is floating in the water around them, ready for another trip around the island. What remains is almost cylindrical, almost like a miniature of the tree it came from. Before it required two hands to hold, now it balances perfectly in his left palm.

The waves take evidence of his work away, and not for the first time, Kimahri wonders where the scraps end up. Perhaps they wash up on the island a few weeks later, or in Killika a few months later, or perhaps sometime in the past eight years, one or two of his scraps have sailed through the currents back to his real home. the far coast of the Gagazet region and island of Besaid do share an ocean after all, even if Kimahri is the only Ronso to ever look upon the shore.


	17. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri talks to someone on the Farplane.

The farplane had long seemed hopeless to Kimahri. The dead, whoever they were, did not involve themselves in human affairs, except when they did. Auron stood just outside as Yuna and some of her human guardians looked into the distance. Shimmering mirages--for that's what they were, no smell to them at all--that smiled and nodded as their living loved ones poured their thoughts out. There, Wakka talked at the image of Chappu, and then Lulu did the same, both of them reflecting on their lives since his death and their reactions. Yuna talked with her parents, Braska and the unnamed Al-Bhed woman who had died so long ago. Did Yuna even remember her mother's name? Did Kimahri even learn his? And then the mother of the pup appeared, such a dull-looking woman compared to her zealous husband and son.

"Do you have someone you want to meet?" Yuna asked, as everyone prepared to leave the Farplane.

Kimahri shook his head.

"You sure? Not even your parents Kimahri?"

"Kimahri here to guard Yuna."

The pup walked over to him, determined to follow Yuna where ever she ended up. "C'mon Kimahri, isn't there anyone you'd like to meet?"

"Please, Kimahri."

Kimahri grimaced and closed his eyes, trying to call an ancestor from Gagazet. No answer.

"Kimahri cannot."

Yuna rested her hands on his. "Just think of someone you'd like to meet, your mother, maybe. Or your father. Someone you remember."

Once again, Kimahri closed his eyes and opened his ears. The Ronso he might have called mother, all he knew was that she had been too weak to bear a son in the midst of the cold season. The Ronso he might have called father, the man who had died or been put to death before Kimahri's birth. Kimahri had no memory of them. But still, someone came to his mind.

Kishana Ronso, old and weak and deceased since the summer before Kimahri's defeat, descended from Gagazet to just in front of Kimahri's eyes. Her back remained as stooped as he remembered, and her arthritic hands continued in the same ritual motion of preparing herbs and medicines that she always had when he came to her fire to ask her advice.

She looked upon his countenance, her face registering nothing but a blank curiosity.

Not even five minutes ago, watching Wakka and Lulu talk to Chappu had seemed to be a silly experience. Nothing but illusions, he told himself. Ronso ancestors roamed the peaks of Gagazet, protecting their children from afar. Yet, as he looked upon Kishana's face, he felt compelled to talk.

"Kimahri defeated by Biran. Lost horn. Became Guardian to Yuna." He watched for a reaction--the anger or shame that might come from knowing that the child she had saved had brought dishonor upon himself, and thus upon her. Yet all that remained was a solemn look.

If he heard her voice, it was only in his head, not for Yuna or the pup to hear. "Kimahri hornless for reason. If Kimahri not know now, he will. Horn not holding Kimahri back. Kimahri holding Kimahri back."

Kimahri shook his head. The wise-woman spoke like his inner voice, and this was no time for self-reflection. "Kimahri will meet wisewoman on Gagazet someday." He bowed his head and turned to leave.

"Who was that? Your grandma or something?" The pup asked.

"Kimahri's family." He said, though he didn't know if Kishana had actually shown up, or if he had only imagined her as she had been eleven years ago in his home camp.

They left the Farplane, the guardians all reuniting with the summoner as she prepared to give Seymour her answer. Kimahri looked at Auron, the fear leaving as they returned to the living world. Unlike the dead on the Farplane, he did not smile with bland curiosity. What drew him here?

Kimahri wanted to ask, but did not. He would learn in time. Kishana had once taught him that.


	18. A Lunchtime Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple misunderstanding escalates into a crisis at lunch time.

The first steps from the S.S. Winno onto the wooden docks of the island, Kimahri took with caution. The timbers looked worn and gray, except where fresh wood had been brought into repair sections that had fallen apart. Most likely from Sin. The breeze felt warm and probably comforting to humans who did not have the protection of fur.

Yet, he doubted Yuna's safety here. The town had been built at the edges of these elaborate docks, with most of the buildings held up by wooden stilts. So much time and effort to get her to this place, so many weeks with Yuna as both his master and his student, and yet Kimahri wondered if he could let her live here, even if her father had requested she lived here.

"What're you thinking about?"

"Would Yuna like to have one last lunch with Kimahri?"

The transformation became astounding, the little girls posture, usually so alert and happy immediately slumped. "Kimahri? You don't like me,anymore?"

"Kimahri--"

"You'd even break a promise you made to my father." Yuna ran off disappearing into the crowd of people that had gathered around to see the Ronso. Kimahri almost preferred the crowds that gathered around Yuna as the daughter of the high summoner. And now, for their witnessing, Kimahri felt doubly shamed, for what, he did not understand.

Some people followed Yuna off, wondering what the horrible monster had done to her to cause her to run off suddenly afraid. The rest, including an old woman complete with an iron skillet, closed around him, all demanding answers for his behavior, when even Kimahri could not realize his mistake? He only offered to take her for lunch one last time before he took her to the temple.

"What did you say?" That was a young male voice, nasally and high pitched with an undertone of a wheeze.

"What did you do?" The voice of the old skillet wielding warrior brandishing it like a mother protecting her pup.

"Does he need to do anything? If I were as young as that little girl I'd be scared of him. As it stands, he has no business staying on this island." The young woman who said this, stepped forward. Compared to the rest of the crowd, her skin was much darker and her hair a glossy black. Must be royalty, Kimahri thought, the way she commanded the crowd. Where at first they had seemed interested in hearing his answer, their expressions and postures closed, and a hostile sweat lingered among the crowd. "You are not welcome here."

Though she was only up to his chest, she managed to give a threatening posture, emphasized by the angry mob behind her. Kimahri looked behind, him the Winno had left quickly. People had lined the docks to the southern islands, more than a simple boat could hold. Perhaps she had made a return trip quickly, or they had set Kimahri up this ambush.

On two sides shops and row house left no room for escape, on the third side the unwelcoming blue of water, and on the final side, the Island Princess and a crowd of hostile humans.

Kimahri closed his eyes, beseeching the ancient wisdom of Gagazet to help him. The crowd or the ocean. Exile from a human world to a place out of his elements, or a death and a life wandering as a ghost away from Gagazet. Kimahri remembered swimming lessons from his childhood, when they were choosing who to be a warrior on the mountain, and who would be a warrior in the stadium. He had passed, barely. The question was, could Kimahri remember?

No. Kimahri looked up, not the water. Not the crowds. The roofs, stretching from the docks to the jungle beyond, like a road to time. Time to think. Time to figure out what he had done to incur the sadness of Yuna and the islanders. Time to wait for the next boat to Luca, where he could return to the life of an exile, this time with more dishonor weighing on him.

Yet, coward as he was, Kimahri choose the escape.

***

The din of a lunchtime rush distracted Yuna as she sat one of the empty table, with the map of Spira spread in front of her. Luca, Killika, and then Besaid. She kicked her legs against the chair, tracing the route line between them. Didn't Kimahri understand? He always talked about honor and duty, and yet, he would abandon her here, one stop before Besaid.

If only... if only....

"Can I get you something to eat?" The owner looked down at Yuna with an almost motherly gaze, almost how Yuna remembered her own mother before she had went on the boat to see Uncle Cid.

"I'm waiting for someone." Yuna went back to looking at the map.

"We're in Killika." The woman said, pointing to the marker on the map.

Yuna nodded. "I know. Kimahri and I were going to Besaid."

"Besaid is down here." The woman pointed to the most southern island. "It's a beautiful place. My brother lives there and runs a weaving house. I'm sure he would take you in. Just tell him that Tara sent you."

Yuna ran her index finger along the dot of "Besaid Island." "But I want to go with Kimahri, but he said this would be our last day together. Our last lunch. So I ran off."

"Kimahri...?" The woman sat down with Yuna, just like a mother with her daughter. Her hair was the same brown, and her eyes a green like one of hers. Their names even started with the same letter. No...her mom was not a woman in Killika.

"He's a Ronso. We met in Bevelle, because my father told him he wanted me to go to Besaid. But my father died, so Kimahri helped him, by watching out for me, and letting me ride on his shoulders when I got tired of walking. But Kimahri wanted to leave me here, and not in Besaid."

"Poor child. Shame about your father, dying during Lord Braska's calm. How sad. And now this Ronso friend of yours. Are you sure Kimahri knows where Besaid is?"

Yuna looked down, trying to hide her tears. She would be as strong as her father and mother. As strong as Kimahri. "He always knew where we were going. South. South. He knew the names of places, and a lot of things that weren't on the map."

"Does Kimahri know Yevon script? He might not have been able to read the map? The islands are easily confused."

Yuna faced the woman and her pitying eyes. "I always read for Kimahri. Signs for the Inn, and their prices. So I don't think he could. I never asked."

"Where do you think he would be now? We could go find Kimahri."

"He hates the water. And he doesn't like crowds. I bet he's long gone from Killika."

There's also jungle between here and the temple. Most of the island is. Most of the islands are. Your Ronso friend might be there. Maybe we should go to the temple. They'd know where Kimahri is."

Yuna nodded and jumped up from her seat. "Let's go!"

***

Only three months in the human world, and yet he became more accustomed to their ways. When faced with the neat stone path in the jungles and the untamed overgrowth beyond, Kimahri chose the stone path. He waited though. Yuna.

Her father wanted this to be her home. This little island as far from Bevelle as possible. But Kimahri did not trust this place. Not Princess with her airs, not the rickety docks and a coastal town exposed to any attack by Sin. Kimahri, in not knowing what to do, chose to do the easiest thing, walking around in circles, and avoiding the people who trod the road.

Honor. Duty. Those things the Ronso knew as submitting to the power of one's oaths. Three months ago, only three months in the latest spring, Auron had extracted an oath from Kimahri, and he had seen in through. But the oath did not stick, because Yuna did not like this place. And Kimahri did not like this place either. The bitter taste of misunderstanding between him and Yuna, like the greens the non-Ronso ate, and the hostility of the crowd. Would they treat Yuna any better?

Kimahri wondered, what else was there?

The the claws on his feet scratched up the time worn cobbles on the road. And the pads of his feet felt where he had trod before. Where there were little claw shaped pits on the road. The wind brought the same scent circles of resin and rotting flowers.

"Kimahri!"

"Kimahri Ronso."

One of those voices belonged to Yuna. The other belonged to a woman, but not one of those who had shouted in the crowd. Yuna's scent went on the winds, almost directly to the east. He followed it to a large clearing where the sun sent bits of quartz in the cobbles gleaming. She stood there, with one of the island women, as dark as the Princess but with green eyes.

Kimahri stepped out of the trees.

"Kimahri!" Suddenly Yuna's arms wrapped around his legs and her head pressed against his stomach. "This is Killika! Not Besaid! You can't read, can you?"

Kimahri lowered his head in shame. All this sorrow for a lack on Kimahri's part. "Kimahri went a far south as the boat. Thought it was Besaid. Island would not tell me its name."

"Well," said the woman, "Killika is the last stop on the Winno. But tomorrow we're getting a shipment of textiles on the Liki, which runs between here and Besaid."

Kimahri nodded.

"Yuna and I leave for Besaid tomorrow. Tonight, we stay at the temple."

The woman shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll stay at the inn tonight, compliments of the house. It's much more comfortable."

"C'mon Kimahri, I'm hungry!" Yuna grabbed his hands and walked him out of the jungle.


	19. Guado Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri is unsure of this new food, and this new culture.

"May the blessings of Yevon be upon us."

Jyscal led the prayer at Guadosalam's Calm Celebration. Temple players hired out from Macalania provided background music, a stately composition heavily underlined by a bass drum. A celebration, yet somber.

Many guests attended, all the Guado and at least fifty others, mostly pilgrims searching for loved ones at the Farplane, now that High Summoner Braska had defeated Sin, but also important officials from the nearby temples, and even a couple of Al Bhed, who wanted to travel Spira while the moods were still high. Guado hospitality extended to everyone. And then, perhaps the biggest curiosities among everyone, the daughter of High Summoner Braska and the long-lost son of Lord Jyscal, now an accomplished summoner and newly-ordained priest of Yevon.

Kimahri tried to look blank and hide his irritation every time someone else wanted to come and meet the High Summoner's daughter. As long as Yuna lapped up the attention, her face positively glowing with the fame and recognition bestowed upon her, Kimahri would try his best to endure.

The feast seemed made for human and Guado senses, not pleasing at all to someone used to the simplicity of Ronso life. Piles of tropical fruits and vegetables imported from as far away as Kilika and meats cooked in heavy sauces seemed to be the fare of the day. His hands felt too big to grasp the plates, and he held it awkwardly by the rim. And he stood at the pile of meat questioning whether to try the human food.

"Kimahri..." Yuna sounded almost angry, "Don't keep people waiting."

He looked behind him, humans of various shapes, sizes, and dress waited behind him, all with postures of impatience. Indignation came over him for a second, before he grimaced that feeling out of him. Shame, a feeling of smallness inside, even though his body towered over even the tallest Guado. He lowered his eyes as he took a slice of meat, lupine from the smell of it, and quietly went to his assigned place. Yuna on his left and some human to his right.

Yuna followed him, berating him for his lack of etiquette. "Kimahri, you shouldn't take food with your hands. That's kind of gross."

He promised to remain submissive. The truly giant could withstand anything. "Kimahri sorry. Kimahri not know much about parties."

Yuna giggled. "You're silly!"

The man sitting on the other side of Yuna chimed in, "Perhaps not, Lady Yuna," he said. Seymour Guado, the son of Lord Jyscal and one of the reasons such a large banquet was being held, seemed to have taken an interest in Yuna. But not Yuna, Kimahri grimaced, the daughter of the High Summoner. It was the exact difference between respecting a Ronso as a friend and warrior and respecting him because he is the son of the Fight-Master. "You see, Ronso do not have the same culture or contact with others as the humans or Guado do."

"Why not? They live in Spira, right?"

Seymour smiled, and Kimahri took a bite of the meat. The same sensation, a slimy texture and a cloying sweetness Kimahri could not quite taste but could captivate a human. "Yes, the do, but Mount Gagazet is far removed from the outside world. You know, I was a summoner once. And I spent one night among the Ronso clan."

"Really?" Yuna seemed fascinated by his stories.

"Yes. I traveled with my mother to Zanarkand, and the Ronso held a ceremony in our honor. They sang and dance, and they did take meat with their bare hands."

"Was Zanarkand really all lit up at night?"

"No, no. The city has long passed into ruins. But I did see wonders there, and learn of beautiful stories. Perhaps tonight, you will hear them. Who told you Zanarkand was lit up at night?"

"Sir Jecht did! My father found him at Bevelle right before he left, and we all spent time together saying our last goodbyes. And he told me about Zanarkand because he's from there."

Kimahri pretended to eat while listening to the conversation, and trying not to let the background of chatter and music get in the way of keeping Yuna safe. More dangers existed in Spira than fiends and Sin, his warrior training reminded himself.

"A man from Zanarkand. How wonderfully novel. Your father certainly was an interesting man. I believe my father is about to give a speech now."

Kimahri never turned his gaze completely away from Yuna as Jyscal stood at the head of the table.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Guado, Human, and Ronso. Though many times life is bleak, tonight is not one of those times. For we are honored to have you all here with us while Sin sleeps. Tonight is the first night of the Grand Pilgrimage, where all of you have come to celebrate with your loved ones both in this world and the Farplane. Tonight, my own son has returned home to Guadosalam for the first time in ten years, now an accomplished summoner and acolyte at Macalania temple. And tonight, we happen to have two other very special guests. The Lady Yuna, daughter of High-Summoner Braska, and her Ronso Guardian."

All attention turned towards Yuna and Kimahri, expecting something from one or both of them. "Stand up." Yuna whispered tugging on his hands. He complied. "Now bow and sit back down." He did, and the room turned its attention back to Jyscal.

Jyscal continued as if no one had committed a social sin. "And now, we shall start our evening of entertainment." He stood aside, and of all the guests, Seymour was the first to stand.

"Tonight," he said, in his airy, high-pitched voice, "I was going to tell a tale of Guado legend out of respect of my father's people, but in honor of the child sitting next to me, daughter of High-Summoner Braska, I shall tell a different tale. The tale of the Lady Yunalesca, the woman who gave Young Lady Yuna here her name. May she be as powerful as her namesake."

Seymour's tale seemed oilier than the meat, and both together made Kimahri's stomach unpleasantly heavy. Yuna listened rapt and it took the entirety of Kimahri's Ronso nature to prevent himself by grabbing Yuna by the wrist and leading her away from this place. They would leave as soon as it was polite, he decided.

"And the bond forged between Yunalesca and Zaon became a great love that defeated Sin. Legends talk of Yunalesca forging with Zaon and together calling up the first Final Aeon. Husband and wife fell through the air as Sin crumbled into many pieces. And that, my young lady, is the story of your illustrious namesake."

"What a wonderful story!"

The rest of the table seemed to agree, the cheers and clapping of all the guests drowned out the temple players. Kimahri clapped his hands to give the appearance of propriety and bowed. His hand though, slipped to Yuna's wrist catching her hand.

"Kimahri! Quit it." Yuna tried to pull her hand from his grasp.

"Kimahri not well. Guado food not agree with Ronso stomach."

Yuna shook her head. "Well, I'm having fun."

"If you are feeling ill, my Ronso friend," Seymour said, taking apparent interest in the whispered conversation, "You can leave Lady Yuna in my care tonight. I will bring her to her room when the party has ended."

It was Kimahri's turn to shake his head. "Kimahri is Yuna's Guardian. If Kimahri abandon Yuna, Kimahri does not deserve to be guardian."

"So be it." Seymour turned away from them and watched as the next storyteller took his place.

Kimahri spent the rest of his night watching Yuna and cursing the sickness that came from greasy food and greasy company.


	20. Grease and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri has a bad feeling about Seymour.

"...But whoever is watching this... I implore you to stop Seymour! Stop my son."

When Jyscal's sphere grew dim again, two scents converged in Kimahri's nose: one of greasy, over-seasoned meat, and the other of biting winds. One told him of the danger, slimy Seymour, his sire's murderer, and soon to be Yuna's. The other told him the course of action, find the source. Kimahri ran from the room, while the others talked of human things.

"You can't go in...the summoner is--"

Kimahri saw only an obstacle in the monk. Kimahri pushed it aside and kept running. The chamber of trials waited, thankfully completed by Yuna and Seymour not even fifteen minutes earlier. He smelled Yuna, nervous and believing the best of a plan that would fail. He smelled Seymour, that greasy-cold scent of someone who knew exactly who planned his end and what he needed to do about it. The ice-wind rolled through the corridor threatened to hold him back, even as it carried the trail he now followed.

He exited the chamber of trials, beneath the ice of a frozen lake. The wind still struggled against him, resisting his need to run. You can wait, it said. You can wait. Kimahri ignored the voice, the sensations of cold and grease would sicken him too much if he stopped.

Only when the door of the Antechamber stood behind him, did Kimahri stop. Seymour waited in the center, his eyes fixated on the chamber of the Fayth. Yuna still prayed. The stench retreated among the stillness, and gave Kimahri time to listen and watch and, more importantly, time to think. Whatever Seymour wanted, he wished for Yuna to continue the journey. Yet, could he continue with his farce, when all knew his deeds? No, he would kill Yuna, if someone forced him into action.

Kimahri searched the room, the walls and floor bare but for the door leading to the Chamber of the Fayth and the door leading to the temple. He focused on the door to the Fayth. His legs crouched, ready to close the distance between himself and Yuna when she came out. He could swing his spear, unless Seymour backed them against the wall. No...Seymour was a mage, not a warrior, who fought from a distance. The smell of the four elements still permeated his clothing.

"Seymour!" The pup's voice disrupted the silence and Kimahri's focus.

The Maester turned. "Please be silent. Lady Yuna prays to the Fayth."

Kimahri knew the outcome. So did Seymour, and the Pup. Behind them, the others gathered, and on all their faces Kimahri recognized the same greasy-cold in their noses, even if none of them detected the scent. They knew of the impending battle. Auron's hand hovered over the handle of his katana, and Lulu closed her eyes, rehearsing her spellbook. Only Wakka turned away from the stench.

Seymour walked forward, his hand on his staff, stopped only by the opening of the door behind him.

Yuna knew too then, as soon as she saw her guardians. She panicked. Kimahri could hear her heart speeding up from across the room until it matched the pace of everyone else's pulse, including his own. Only Seymour remained calm.

They talked, Yuna, the Pup, Seymour and the Guardians, as though the talks might change what would happen. Kimahri gripped his spear.

"Lady Yuna, certainly you know of these things, did you not? Well then, why have you come here?"

Yuna walked forward, her staff in hand, her meekness cast aside. "I came to stop you!"

All descended into battle. Yuna's guardians came forward with Kimahri in the frontline, while Seymour called for his guards, Guado weaklings with no real ability but to throw potions upon their master. Kimahri was still Ronso in battle--his spear going through the belly of one guard still called up a deep satisfaction within him.

Then, he froze as the thousands of icy crystals enclosed him in a cold that felt deeper than Gagazet's winter. He shivered and roared from the pain as they broke away from his skin. Rikku gave him one of her potions, one that she stole from the Guado. Auron stepped in, to take the place of an injured comrade.

And then Anima towered over them, in her twisted glory. Kimahri recalled the scene after the game, when he ran back into the stadium, and the fiends flowed over the stands. They dissolved into pyreflies, not even falling over before they ceased to exist. They all shrank back, except Yuna who called an Aeon to fight for them.

Kimahri watched the ice-woman, a being who thrived on a cold that even a Ronso gritted his teeth against, yet even she could not stand to Seymour. When Anima fell, her master stepped forward, banishing Yuna's Aeon back to the Farplane, with little more than a snap of his fingers. But then too, Seymour succumbed to a combination of Auron's sword and Lulu's fire.

The humans grew silent at the end of the battle, a deeper one than the usual post-battle quiet. A maester lay dead. His corpse became a testament of their supposed crime, and they all knew that trouble lay ahead, yet none knew what needed done, not even Kimahri nor the breeze that leaked through the crack of the temple door. They exited the chamber without a sound, taking their time to get back to the temple itself. Even Yuna could not face what they had done long enough to send the man.

The wind pushed at their back, speeding them up where Kimahri preferred to walk. He bent his ears to the wailing breeze, still freezing, but warm compared to the events in the antechamber. "Run. Run. Run," it whispered."Cowards. Criminals."

Seymour's grease had ebbed with his death, but the chill had strengthened, and that promise carried on the wind that pushed them back towards the temple.

The danger with Seymour had only just begun.


	21. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimarhi and young Yuna note some strange behavior taking place on Mi'ihen Highroad.

On the Mi'hen Highroad, the rumor circulated that the most beautiful flowers bloomed the summer after the Calm. What Kimahri had assumed would be a relatively calm trip down a prairie road turned into a flock of people clamoring to see the prettiest flowers in the world. When some old man, who boasted to all that he had seen the flowers during High-Summoner Yocun's calm, nudged Kimahri to agree with his claim that his patch of little pink and purple were the most beautiful in the world, Kimahri nodded, though he had always been partial to the crocuses native to Gagazet.

Yuna tugged at his hand. "What are they doing?" Even at Guadosalam, where everyone joined for many days of feasting, there had not been such merriment. As people of all ages, and even some Al Bhed and Guado, entered into lively debates over which patch of flowers deserved to be the most beautiful in all the Calms. Families, rich and poor, some farmers, some probably merchants in Spira, had turned the area around the Newroad into their own picnic ground.

"People look at flowers." Kimahri explained.

"I know that. But why? They're just flowers."

"People say flowers are more beautiful during the Calm."

"Oh. That's silly."

Yuna became silent after that, looking at everyone admire prairie blooms nestled among the grasses.

"It's because of my father isn't it? Since he brought the Calm. There's been lots of parties."

Kimahri nodded. There had been. Even the Ronso had held tournaments and contests among themselves to celebrate the passing of Sin. Every town and temple they passed through had held long celebrations, only intensifying when they found out the identity of the orphan Yuna's father.

"And if he hadn't brought the Calm, would that mean the flowers wouldn't bloom?"

"Kimahri thinks flowers bloom." He did. Every year, no matter what, the crocuses would creep out of the ground at Gagazet, no matter how harsh the winter. In this climate, more gentle to blooms that sought sun and warmth, there would be flowers too.

"So they're just prettier during the Calm?"

"Perhaps."

"Kimahri...you're not answering!"

"People do not look at flowers while Sin lives. Only in Calm do they seek them."

"Hmm..." Yuna lapsed into silence as they left the viewers to their poetic waxing on the merits of their particular bed of flowers.

A while later, as they crossed the bridge over the Oldroad, Yuna talked again.

"My father told me a story once. He said he learned it from my mother."

Kimahri looked down at her.

"She was Al Bhed, like the people at the Travel Agencies. They're from the desert, and my mom said there's no rain there. And no flowers. And then one time, when she was a little girl, it rained for hours and hours one night. But in the morning the entire desert around her home was covered in flowers. I think that would be pretty."

"My dad used to tell me that story at bedtime, right before he left to be a summoner."

Kimahri nodded. "Yuna think Father knew about flowers?"

"Uh-huh. And one day, I'm gonna make flowers bloom too, just like my father. I'll even have a guardian from Zanarkand like Sir Jecht! And you could be my Sir Auron!"

"Yuna is Yuna. Kimahri is Kimahri."

"But I wanna be like my father!"

"Kimahri remember Yuna's father. Yuna's father not Yuna."

"Kimaahrii." Her voice dragged out that extra whine.

"Yuna should be Yuna." He looked at her, the sun burnt, earth-covered little girl could hardly be associated with the daughter of the High-Summoner who had been at Bevelle, and yet something of her father still existed in the girl, something he remembered distinctly on Gagazet, as he reminisced to the Ronso tribe about his wife and flowers while twirling the short stem of a crocus between his fingers.

"Kimahri!"

"Maybe one day. Yuna will be summoner. Yuna will make people happy. But Yuna will be Yuna, not Yuna's father."

"Of course not. Can I have ice cream?"

The abrupt subject shift placed Kimahri off balance like an opponent's well-timed blow, though he recovered quickly, "When Yuna and Kimahri get to the Travel Agency."

"Okay!" Yuna ran off to the squat building in the distance, dodging around the people who waited for their turn to go on a flower viewing exposition. Kimahri leaped forward, planning just this once, to beat her at her own game.


	22. Preparations for the Rainy Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri and young Yuna arrive on Besaid.

Autumn was the busiest time. Always on Gagazet, the Ronso prepared for their Winter. Now, Biran would lead the young warriors in the largest hunt of the year, stocking up on meats to be smoked and preserved for when Gagazet's snow would not let them pass to find prey. The camps would be fortified, and fuel gathered to keep bonfires burning all through the darkest night and to the dawn.

Though the climate was as warm and wet as Gagazet was cold and dry, Kimahri had the same impression when he stepped off the boat. Cargo, building supplies, quantities of weaving supplies and other imports, had taken up more than their normal share of space, so much that most of the passenger cabins had been filled with boxes, and even Kimahri and Yuna had shared accommodations with two wooden crates.

The cargo demanded the most attention, as the dockworkers unloaded everything, and the Ronso and his charge were left on their own to figure their path.

"This is Besaid, Kimahri?" Yuna turned around, eying the sea, the jungles, and the beach in turn.

Kimahri nodded. "This is Yuna's new home."

"It's kinda quiet, isn't it? Killika had lots and lots of people on the docks."

A slight breeze came by, heavy with the language of scent. Clouds heavy with rain waited for the rainy season to start. Salt air from the other coast gave Kimahri a measurement, and from somwhere before that a village, small yes, but lively with preparations for autumn.

"Besaid's people live inside island, not by sea." Kimahri pointed to a little crevice between two bluffs. "Road goes through there."

"Take me to the village," and almost as an afterthought, "Please." She grabbed his hands and they started walking across the beach, the sand an unpleasant grit between his feet.

Fortunately, the jungle dirt absorbed the sand from the beaches, and the cool dirt of the path made a welcome change of pace. Yuna seemed to disagree, walking slower and slower. Undergrowth disguised a cave, and tracks from fiends lined the trails. Though, Kimahri thought, they seemed to be in slumber right now.

"What happens when we get to the village?" Yuna still walked as the snail did, so much that Kimahri could document inch by inch where the edges of the jungles transformed into a wall of falling water.

"Temples will accept Yuna as their child. Yuna will learn ways of her people, and grow strong."

"That's what I was doing in Bevelle. Why did we have to go so long?"

"Yuna's father think Besaid better?" As a last resort to her patience Kimahri swept her up to his shoulders, letting her see the world from up high.

"It's quiet here. Something always happened at Bevelle. There was this one time when I thought it would be the boringest day ever because Sammu stole bread from the kitchen and led the whole temple in the chase and that's all that happened. But all that's happened here is some guys are unloading boxes."

Kimahri shook his head. "Yuna not seen Besaid yet. Look first." Kimahri pointed to the village at the bottom of a distant slope. Specks of people went about their business, though not as many as in a Ronso village. And that, to Kimahri, was the first bit of strangeness. Preparing for a hostile season, he understood, but he had always thought of humans as numerous, more than Ronso, but here in this little place, Kimahri imagined otherwise.

If their arrival on the beach had caused little notice, their entrance into the village caused a great stir. Some disappeared into the shells of their houses only to come out with more people, who gaped as they walked up the temple. A boy, perhaps a little older than Yuna ran ahead to the temples calling out, "Mister Summoner! Mister Summoner!"

The Besaid elder greeted Yuna then Kimahri with a low bow. "Welcome to this humble village of Besaid." He turned to the little boy who still jumped around for attention. "Chappu, give our guests some space."

Yuna, who had demanded to be let down from his shoulders as soon as Kimahri reached the village, bowed in return, and her hand tugging on Kimahri's arm hinted that he do the same. "It is a privilege, Master Summoner. My name is Yuna, and I would be honored if you would welcome me into your temple. And this is Kimahri the Ronso. He brought me here from Bevelle."

The man looked down upon her and smiled. "Father Zuke will do just fine, Yuna. I'm afraid we were not told to expect such a charming young girl and her Ronso friend. But, I'm sure arrangements can be made for you. But what about your friend."

"Kimahri?"

"Kimahri made promise to bring Yuna to Besaid. Kimahri done filling promise. Kimahri go when Yuna settled."

Father Zuke looked up, as if making notes upon the wind. "All right then, we will give you a bed in the Crusader's lodge until we have set up something more permanent for our Miss Yuna here. Be warned though, since it's the Calm, most of Besaid's Crusaders are here training instead of fighting against Sin."

"Kimahri understan--" Yuna's wailing cut him off, so loud and strong, much louder than her tears at Bevelle, louder than the ones on the Thunder Plains or Killika. Her voice became an alarm that warned the villagers of a difficult time. Yuna, one moment, the self-assured temple-bred child, turned into a little girl clinging to Kimahri's left leg, squeezing so tight that he could hardly move with her extra weight. No Ronso pup would behave this way.

He almost wondered if the threatening rains had started, but no, the only water streamed down Yuna's cheeks in a sloppy show of tears. The sky remained the same sickening blue-green-gray.

He knelt down as Zuke watched and brushed back her tears. "Yuna, be strong like Ronso. Dry tears and do not be afraid."

"But you're leaving me Kimahri...how can I be like a Ronso?"

Father Zuke interrupted before either could continue. "Perhaps, if you are not busy, you should stay with Yuna. The village would welcome you, if you are worried about that."

Kimahri looked at Besaid, and heard her message on the wind. Her children were not as hospitable as Father Zuke seemed eager to point out, but the jungle would welcome him into the family, if he could not find a place among the humans.

"Kimahri will stay."

Yuna's tantrum cleared up immediately, as Kimahri and possibly Zuke had sensed it would.


	23. Fear of Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri gets exasperated at young Yuna's fear of the Thunder Plains.

Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty.

Yuna's counting carried over the thunder and the lightning. Every time a bolt hit the crater marked ground around them, she shrieked and then counted as if nothing else had happened in the past two seconds.

"Kimahri, when can we leave?" Her hand tightened around his fingers as yet another bolt crashed down, not even two feet in front of them. She screamed again. "Fifty-one."

She feared the lightning and the rain, just as a Ronso might fear the snow of his mother, at least until he started his warrior training. This is Yuna's training, he told himself, or at least the start of it.

"Kimahri and Yuna walk here to go to Besaid. Thunder Plains end soon." It didn't. A map of Spira, bought at the Macalania Travel agency indicated many more miles to go. "Travel agency up ahead soon. We stop there."

"But Kimahri, we could go back. I swear, we could live in Macalania. It'd be nice and cold for you, and I could play in the snow all the time. And we could chase butterflies."

Kimahri shook his head. "Yuna dreaming."

"Please Kimahri, I don't want to--" Crack. Scream. "Fifty-two."

"Yuna needs to go to Besaid. South." Kimahri pointed to the inn in the distance. "See there. We rest. Dry off."

"No!" I want to go back." Yuna stopped in her tracks, refusing to budge as Kimahri stepped forward.

He considered acquiescing. The rain soaking through his fur, the peace destroying thunder and screams, the constant pressure of negotiating with a human-child seeking to cause as much trouble as possible on her journey to freedom, he brought all of that to the forefront. Then, he remembered a dying man, so intent on keeping his promise that he bequeathed it to Kimahri, and then beyond that the memories of a Ronso cub, fearing snow and wind on the mountain. He balanced, weighed everything in his mind, the man, the Ronso, where they both were now.

It was through Yuna's shouts of protest that he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. "We dry off there." Lightning and thunder struck at a spot just around them, almost hitting them if not for his reflexes. Yuna screamed, fearful this time.

"Fifty-three." Kimahri muttered as Yuna forgot to say it aloud.

***

A fire crackled cheerfully in their room, and bright music cycled through a sound system. Unfortunately, those were the only happy things as both travelers dried off in silence.

"Yuna..." Kimahri said.

"I'm not talking to you." She sat on the bed, facing away from Kimahri, her arms crossed in front of her, and surely a masterful pout on her face.

"Kimahri knew a Ronso boy. Hated snow. Feared snow. Like Yuna's thunder. Ronso boy feared climbing Gagazet with the other boys to become warriors. So what did Ronso do?"

"I said, I'm not talking to you. La la la."

"Ronso boy went to elder and refused to climb the mountain so he wouldn't have to feel the snow or risk getting lost in a blizzard. Yuna know what elder said?"

Silence.

"Elder said Ronso boy can stay at the bottom in their mother's embrace. Ronso boy would never be warrior. Ronso boy would lose his horn if he lacked bravery. Elder raised his spear to Ronso boy's horn. The boy feared the spear, but faced it. He could live hornless if he did not have to face the snow."

"So we can go back to Macalania? I don't have a horn. I could live hornless."

Kimahri shook his head. "No. Elder pressed spear against horn and told Ronso boy if he could face being a hornless coward without quaking, he should ask what snow is compared to that.

"Snow is water, elder said. Ronso drink snow water to live. Ronso body is strong and furred, he said, to bear burdens of snow. Snow is a gift from Gagazet to make her children strong and healthy. Ronso do not fear the snow so much that dishonor is better."

"Oh. What happened to the boy?"

"Ronso boy climbed mountain after fellow youth. He hated snow, but he climbed. Everyone knew his fear, but when he climbed, they praised his bravery. Ronso boy became a warrior Ronso."

"Okay. I still want to go to Macalania."

"Yuna loves father, would obey his wishes?"

"I love my father, and I would do whatever he asked me to. I just don't want to go across the Thunder Plains anymore."

"Yuna's father wants her to go to Besaid. Thinks she'll be happy there."

"Kimahri, stop it. I'm not going to change my mind."

Kimahri heard the fight deflating from her voice. "Kimahri sorry. End conversation now." He curled up by the fireplace, letting the heat penetrate his fur and warm him. Shamefully, he fell asleep like that.

***

Yuna was not in the room when he woke up. The bed was empty, and made, though a few corners looked out of place. He grabbed his spear and rushed out the door, intending to find Yuna before she could get too far, or eaten by a fiend.

She didn't go far, and in fact, Kimahri felt a little stupid panicking when he saw Yuna sitting at a table in the lobby looking over the book with the blond woman who worked there.

"Kimahri, did you know that we're halfway through the plains already? And we went through the worst part, too." Yuna looked down as she said that, seemingly intent at looking at the map.

"It's true, you are." The woman said. Thunder and lightning cracked outside, but the walls muted the sounds. "She was very brave to make it so far."

Kimahri nodded, "Yuna very brave." Her eyes lifted and her smile responded to his statement. "I was, wasn't I? Like that Ronso."

"Very brave," he confirmed.

"I think I could go to Besaid."

***

"My father told me about the Aeons once. Did you know there's one for all the elements but water?"

"Yuna tell Kimahri about Aeons."

"Well, there's Ifrit of fire, and Shiva of ice. And then there's Valefor who controls wind and sound. And Bahamut who lives in Bevelle. And then there's Ixion. He controls thunder and lightning, and my father said that Ixion looks like a horse who runs across the sky and channels light with a horn that grows from his forehead. And a horse is like a chocobo except not a bird." She paused for a breath, "and since he's an Aeon, he watches over summoners and maybe everyone. So I'm going to say that thunder is Ixion running across the sky."

The Aeon ran across the sky again, light pouring from his horn and his hoof beats passing overhead. Yuna screamed again and clutched Kimahri's hand. "Sixty-seven."


	24. The Horn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri refuses to surrender, and thus must lose the most important Ronso symbol.

Biran presses Kimahri against the rock, closing the distance between him so Kimahri cannot use his spear. The smaller Ronso has already been beaten, and the sideline taunts from Biran's cronie Yenke do nothing to encourage Kimahri. He's worn now, his natural speed not compensating for Biran's superior strength and stamina.

"Kimahri surrender."

He cannot give them his surrender yet. Kimahri will refuse that at least. Biran's Ronso pride stepped forward into undue arrogance, and Kimahri's surrender will only move that dangerous trait to a further extreme. Not to mention, Kimahri has his own Ronso pride. Surrendering to someone so crude simply because he was pinned to a rock was his own admission of failure.

The pinned Ronso shakes his head slowly. There will be no surrender tonight, just the logical conclusion taken to extremes. What will happen next will hurt no doubt, as the mother will witness her cries as a child of hers falls to grace.

"Kimahri surrender!" Biran's voice growls in desperation. Kimahri knows that even as much as Biran enjoys fighting, taunting, and humiliating, what comes next is something even he despises to do, but will, for Ronso pride.

The spear pressed against his head does a bit to taint Kimahri's resolve. Before this, he's never thought about life without his horn, the symbol of all Ronso courage and power, now it seems like he will have to. Yet the other Ronso's spear trembles; Biran is more afraid of committing this act than Kimahri is of receiving it.

That is his own hollow victory, Kimahri thinks as he stares into Biran's yellow eyes, forcing the superior Ronso to choose his actions. Biran could surrender now, realize that Kimahri's will surpasses his own, and the fight will resume another day with neither of them winning or losing.

"Kimahri, surrender now!"

Biran gives the last warning, and Kimahri sees something of pain and difficulty in the other Ronso's eyes. He shakes his head, knowing that he's lost this last gamble. The spear edge slices through bits of keratin, little by little as Biran does his subtle work. He switches to a knife soon, being very deliberate in where and how he cuts.

"Kimahri will pay. Biran beat Kimahri fair and square, yet Kimahri refuse to surrender. Kimahri not follow order; Kimahri will become hornless."

Biran finishes his work, leaving only a strip of horn connected. It's not enough to grow back, just enough to make Kimahri have to finish the punishment of his own will.

***

Kimahri awoke with a start. While he traveled with Auron there had been no dreams, no reliving of his last act as a full Ronso. Now instinct drove his hand to move to his forehead, seeing if that bit of horn still remained connected.

It didn't. Somehow during the journey it must have fallen and escaped Kimahri's notice. Or perhaps a chocobo had stolen it while Kimahri slept. Maybe he ripped it off of his own accord and blocked the memory behind a stone. The how stopped mattering, only the result, a hornless Kimahri, held any importance.

What did Kimahri do without a horn. The Ronso knew that the horn was the source of Ronso courage, of strength. Even with training, and strength of body, a Ronso without a horn did not have the inner power, could not focus as intensely as the others. They became lifeless, things good only for serving others, or dying.

Kimahri though, did not feel this. The will inside hornless Kimahri was the same will--no stronger-- than the will of the Kimahri who lost the battle against Biran. If Kimahri kept telling himself, repeating in his heart over and over, he could believe it to be true eventually.

Eventually.


	25. Ride the Shoopuf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri and Yuna take the last Shoopuf across the Moonflow.

Kimahri greeted the above ground with a chuff of relief. Yuna had enjoyed her stay in Guadosalam, too much perhaps. Three days of feasting and listening to the stories of Jyscal's priest son had left her fascinated, and almost adamant on staying in Macalania as Seymour's apprentice. Only Kimahri's invocation of her father's wishes had prompted Yuna to leave Guadosalam for the next land.

"Look! Look, Kimahri!" Yuna pointed to the purple waters in the distance. The pyreflies rose as the sun set, and Yuna ran to the water dipping her hands in and trying to catch a pyrefly. "It's so pretty!"

Kimahri agreed. Though Yuna saw more of the colors than he did, and even listed off their names in a fit of seven-year-old whimsy, Kimahri could see the darkening sky and the beautiful lights that rose from the surface of the water and glowed. Rifts seemed to mend over that sight.

"That's the Moonflow. We learned about it in school. It's the largest freshwater body in all of Spira. And those are the Pyreflies. And when we cross it, we have to ride the Shoopuf? Have you seen a Shoopuf before?"

"Kimahri has not." Hand-in-hand, they walked across the dirt road from the edge of the Moonflow Forest to the boarding platform.

Gagazet had introduced Kimahri to many fiends, many large fiends. Visiting summoners had shown their Aeons to the Ronso, always willing to watch a show of summoner skills, though inevitably, Ronso lore said, only those who made no pretense at having skills actually came down the mountain to defeat Sin. On his trek through the Calm Lands, he even remembered seeing a Chocobo or two, some of them large enough to hold a normal-sized Ronso. Yet Kimahri could not recall ever seeing something quite like a Shoopuf, or their Hypello handlers.

The Shoopuf stood more than twice Kimahri's height, and probably more than twice his width as well, and a nose that could put the Ronso horn to shame. The seat strapped to his back could hold five or more human passengers comfortably. For a human girl and a Ronso this late in the evening, it would be almost too luxurious. Yet, even Kimahri could feel a twinge of excitement somewhere within him to cross the Moonflow on such a beast.

Yuna ran circles around him, giddy..."Shoopuf, shoopuf, shoopuf!" Even before Kimahri could climb up the stairs Yuna was at the Shoopuf Handler asking for a ticket.

"You'sh lucky, yesh?" He said to Yuna. "Thish ish lasht ride for shoopuf tonight. Misshy want a ticket?"

"Two please. One for me, and one for Kimahri."

"All Aboards!"

Kimahri felt his teeth chatter as the little metal lift placed them on even ground with the Shoopuf's back. Yuna boarded first, taking the seat at one of the Shoopuf's sides, the one that would give her a better view than the others. Kimahri sat next to her, not allowing himself to relax even here, where danger seemed non-existent.

The Shoopuf's steps on the ground were heavy, shaking the caravan with each step, but when the creature entered the water, the easy flowing of motion reminded Kimahri of his first attempts at swimming, only without the trouble of getting wet. The warm air of the evening and the faint smell of water and earth on the wind and the crickets chirping made Kimahri's resolve to remain vigilant seem almost unreasonable. Yet anything could happen.

Yuna's scream alerted him to the issue, and then the splash as Yuna disappeared into the shadows beneath the water.

Had he not been trained as a warrior. He would have screamed. He would have jumped into the water, if not to rescue his charge then to follow her into death. The warrior's training could almost, but not quite, hold back those instinctive reactions as he spent the next few seconds in panicked contemplation of what to do next.

The Shoopuf and his Hypello handler did not seem to have this panic. Almost as soon as the scream had sounded, the Shoopuff and stopped, walked back three steps and fished Yuna from the water, drenched and smelling of underwater plants but healthy and none the worse for her fall in the water.

In fact, she laughed. When the Shoopuf placed her in her exact seat, she laughed and squealed, her shrieks disturbing the otherwise tranquil evening. And a few steps later, Kimahri heard another splash, this time without the alarmed squeal, and yet the Shoopuf did the same routine, step back three steps, pick up Yuna and place her back onto her original seat.

Kimahri wanted to invoke her father. He wanted to scream or bellow as one would do to a Ronso child who climbed too high on the mountain just for the thrill of the risk, but the relaxed attitude of the Shoopuf and his handler seemed to prevent him from saying anything. If they were not worried, and they took countless trips across the Moonflow, then shouldn't Kimahri trust their knowledge as humans trusted the Ronso knowledge of their mountains?

Yuna continued jumping in four or five times before the drawl of the Shoopuf handler stopped her. "That'sh enough misshy. We'sh near the shore now, yesh?"

"Kimahri..." Yuna whined.

"Kimahri thinks that Yuna should listen to Shoopuf handler. Has been doing work here for many years."

"Three monsh thish Tueshday."

"No he hasn't." Yuna seemed almost obliged to point out the misinformation.

"Kimahri wrong. Kimahri sorry."

"That's okay, Kimahri. Look, it's the other shore. Can you believe we rode a Shoopuf?" The smooth bobbing ride of the Shoopuf from water transformed back into the bumpy unsteady gait, as it stepped on the shore.

"Good night!" The Hypello handler called, as the elevator took them down to solid ground.

The sky had darkened considerably, the sun replaced by the tiny sliver of a waning moon. And against the perfect blackness, the light of pyreflies glowed against the surface of the water echoing the constellations of Alexander and Leviathan in the summer sky.

"Kimahri, come on! Buy me a towel so I can dry off!" Yuna pulled him away from the shore to the row of garishly lit shops and stalls selling every manner of overpriced goods.

"Kimahri coming." Admiring the night could wait.


	26. The Places He Meets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronso believe that places have consciousness.

Ronso know the mountain lives. Ronso speak to her, and she speaks back. She cradles the Ronso, protecting them from outsiders. But even as she protects them, she smothers them, keeping her children fearful of the vast world.

Kimahri defied the mountain. Like a petulant child, he walked away to the world his people feared. The landscape he saw from afar rushed to greet him. Kimahri felt overwhelmed at the sorrows and joys of the land, so different from his stoic mother, whose icy temper was her only chill reprimand.

Kimahri adopted human friends on his journey. Not only human friends. Kimahri also adopted the places as his friends. He feels their favors and hears the stories they tell to anyone who ever sets foot across them. Kimahri's human friends never hear them, but Kimahri opens his eyes and his ears to listen to the meanings lost to the busy.

The Calm Lands greeted Kimahri on his first steps away from his mother, and on his last steps back into her fold. His wide openness inspired Kimahri to seek freedom the first time through. When Kimahri returned with Yuna and her friends, he felt the price of that freedom. Short dried grasses barely covered the many scars from the battles waged at his expense. Kimahri nearly cried for him, though soon his suffering will end.

Kimahri never smelled a place so exotic as Macalania and her forest. She encourages love to flourish under her sparkling canopy, just as her distant coolness freezes the unwary, while providing the source of her very allure. Without a lover, Kimahri contented himself with watching elusive butterflies to dance and bob; yet others surrender to the mystery she promises.

One by one, landscapes fade into another, yet the Thunder Plains remain distinct. Kimahri feels the lightning strikes through his blood and rattling his teeth. The Thunder Plains don't invite Kimahri to live like the mountains or the jungles, but Kimahri feels kinship with the wild land nonetheless. The lights inspire him to go harder to push through the adversity and to respect the forces that lie outside his power. With all his experiences with powerful black magic, Kimahri never found any wielded with such nonchalant power.

Overall, the land of the North remain true to their selves. They accept no domestication from their human settlers. South of the Moonflow, the road cuts deeper, and the lands choose to work with their human caretakers, rather than take arms and fight. Villages interrupt fields of generous earth, who give greatly and expect nothing but fresh life in return. They bite back occasionally, as Ronso rebel against their mountain, but they remain obedient.

Even where the rocks resist the carving of roads, they still provide natural pathways for cautious pilgrims. The fiends always seemed weaker, perhaps because the pyreflies that formed their bodies came from people who did not struggle as much as the northerners. Or perhaps the warming climate made them sluggish and relaxed, as it made Kimahri.

Civilization waxes as he nears Luca, and like the grasses around them, small villages sprout, and people, as much a part of the land as the chocobos who graze here, or the occasional bunch of small flowers. Kimahri cannot separate him from the surroundings, like he does with the others. They belong to these stretches of dry road and fields like Ronso belong to the mountain, even if none of them understand this right now.

For all that it's a city, Luca too has it's character. For a young man, of any race, alone, it offered temptation. Sport, gambling, drinking, fighting. With Yuna in his care though, Kimahri feels like a Ronso mother watching over pups when two warriors get into a fight. Luca is a friend for Kimahri to enjoy alone or in the company of his peers, not one to introduce a small girl.

Of all the places, Kimahri fears the ocean the most. Sin lives in the ocean, and it's only because of the men he's helping that he chooses to step foot on the boat. They killed the beast, made the seas safe for a little while at least, and now Kimahri, who had no connection to them before, had to thank them in the only way he could think of: sitting with this wary stranger, and rocking with its waves until the land can welcome him again.

Kilika seems motherly, although a warmer one than Gagazet. She smothers her children with heat, but provides well. The thick coat of fur that he whispered his thanks for numerous times during the journey suddenly becomes stifling. Though he wishes he could have spent more time with this friendly island, he's glad that his stay here ended with the dawn departure of the ferry to Besaid, Yuna's final destination.

Besaid was his truest friend. After the mountain, he spent the most time in her company. Life with her was soft and easy, she provided like a doting relative waiting at the end of the arduous road. Ample food and water in her jungles pampered him after his stay with human kind. Kimahri loves her, although one time he took her for granted. He feels pangs of shame for letting the gentle isle soften him, but yet, of all the places, she taught him the strength that lay in caring, not only for oneself, but for others.

In his head, he can trace his journey, taken almost ten years ago, through every terrain, and he remembers the places that he greeted him, although it took Yuna to awaken his memories. The little girl had quickly grown into a young woman and a summoner determined to take her place along side her father. She asked, would Kimahri be her guardian.

Kimahri will follow Yuna everywhere, this little girl he loves in a way he can't describe. Not a lover. Not a daughter. Not a sister. Kimahri thinks that humans, even with their thousands of names for things cannot express his devotion. Guardian. Kimahri guards Yuna, and so he will leave the arms of Besaid once more, and greet the other lands in Spira, this time as potential adversaries rather than allies.

He loves the places he meets, respects their wisdom, but if it comes down to it, he will fight them all for Yuna's sake.


	27. Judgment Revisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronso take care of Ronso problems.

The time had come.

The years he had spent as Maester of Yevon had sapped him of Gagazet's wisdom. Too many times he had to look to Yevon to the answers of guidance, but now he stood not just as a Maester of Yevon judging heretics but as a Ronso elder judging a Ronso lawbreaker.

The verdict for the other six, Summoner Yuna, the Legendary Guardian, the Blitzer, the Black Mage, the Al Bhed, and the Boy, came from deliberation from the Maesters of Yevon, but insistence on Ronso justice for Ronso offenders, Kelk alone could decide what to do with Kimahri.

So long ago, he had stood on the peak of Gagazet and let the mountain tell him what his heart knew. Now neither smell nor voice guided him to the right choice. Only the law of Yevon guided him now, and the god remained silent in his heart, this was not a matter of the church, technically.

Kimahri had brought Yuna here, as one of her guardians, the first one, as the temple of St. Bevelle had buzzed for days about the High Summoner Braska's daughter walking off with a hornless Ronso. Kimahri had followed Summoner Yuna through everything, following all orders as a warrior should. If he were condemned with Yuna, he would fight to get her out of the Via Purifico.

Justice bothered him. Human law would condemn Kimahri for his actions, his participation in traitorous acts. Ronso law would release Kimahri under the state of following the orders of his commander, Summoner Yuna. Human law condemned for the acts themselves, and yet Kelk wondered if the other judges handed down the death sentence justly. Ronso law believed there was more justice to be served.

Kimahri stood alone in his cell, staring blankly toward the Via Purifico. A good warrior, despite his physical short comings, he gave the appearance of not caring about his fate. Yet, he did care, and Kelk had to figure out the mind of a fellow Ronso living among humans. And then, he must decide whether to give that Ronso his desire.

Once upon a time, as a Hornless, Kimahri had chosen to leave the mountain and live among humans in place of living his life as a servant or dying at the site of his defeat. Biran had spoken of Kimahri's refusal to surrender, yet Yenke reported of Kimahri choosing to leave Gagazet with an injured man as a shield. Life or honor. A hornless needed to learn there is no path that leads both. Search for that path, and the Ronso will end up nowhere.

More than anything, Summoner Yuna was his key to life and honor, and she had to die for leading this insurrection. The rest of her guardians must die under human justice. If Kimahri lived, he would be as every living hornless, alone and with no honor. If he died, he would die on his mission as a guardian, full of honor.

Alone, Kimahri could be no threat. He would die soon enough, perhaps become a fiend, but he could not expose the underbelly of Yevon. Together, if they happened to escape the Via Purifico, he would become the guardian of a dangerous fugitive. Kimahri and Summoner Yuna could perhaps defeat Sin. Perhaps. They could also turn the church of Yevon inside out and disrupt the delicate stability that kept Spira together. Perhaps the world needs to change.

He stepped towards the cage, hanging over the water, and looked up at the prisoner. "What says Kimahri Ronso?"

"Kimahri goes with Yuna. Kimahri is Yuna's guardian."

"Does Kimahri guard a liar?"

"Kimahri does not."

Kelk wished he could be so certain of something. He wished Yevon's justice did not contradict with his Ronso's knowledge of right and wrong. Spira deserved more than selfishness, so he must do what is best for the Ronso and Spira.

"Who swims?"

Kimahri thought, waited, measuring how much trust Kelk deserved as the Ronso Elder and Maester of Yevon. Kelk could see doubt fighting against years of ingrained training to trust a superior implicitly. Long ago Gagazet had said that Kelk would be the judge of Kimahri again, but right now Kelk felt as if he were the one being weighed.

"The boy and the blitzer swim. And the Al Bhed. The rest do not touch water to swim." Kimahri bowed his head and looked back out at the Via Purifico.

"Kelk will give his recommendations to the other Maesters. Kimahri will join Yuna."

"Kimahri thanks elder."

The room fell silent as Kelk prepared to hand his answer to the other maesters. This would be his last, and most important, act as a maester. Gagazet needed him. He needed Gagazet.


	28. A Child's Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As elder, Kelk must decide the life of a orphaned pup.

The comfort, Kelk thought, as he looked at the one he judged, was that he could never know what happened today, on his third day of life.

The unknown baby should not have been born. Frail mother, frail father, not good people for creating strong life for the tribe. The father had died of exposure, not in battle. The mother had lived long enough to birth her son and give him his first milk. And now Kelk stood to judge whether the son would follow their trail into death.

Khishana, wise woman and Kelk's own mate, stepped forward first. "Pup born for reason. If pup means to die, pup will die even if Kelk allow him life. If pup means to live and Kelk kills him, mountain will not forgive Ronso." Kelk heard the underlying tone to her words. Khishana would talk about Gagazet, but he heard the threat to him as well. Yet, as tempting as it might be, he could not base his decision on his mate's desire alone.

Zurl stepped forward as the leader of the warriors and the highest ranked Ronso on the other side. "Pup come from weak stock, will not be warrior. If not warrior, will be useless. Gagazet has no need for useless Ronso." Zurl also made a valid point. If the child had been female, there would have been no debate one way or another, no need for this trial. But the child had been male, and now suddenly a political battle had to be fought. No coincidence, that the leader of the opposition happened to be his biggest rival for title of elder.

"Kelk will consider this." He would. Every personal political implication weighed in his mind, but ultimately it must be the right of Gagazet to decide whether the tribe should accept this new member. "Kelk will climb Gagazet and introduce this pup. Gagazet will decide."

Murmurs spread through the tribe. Respected people must have advice, and the elder must have wisdom, but only at the peak of the mountain could the elder see the truth and decide. And yet, was the child worth it? He heard it. Did some infant who would not survive this tough winter merit the attention of Gagazet? No. Had there been no political implications Kelk would have chosen one way or another. Yet, he needed to be apolitical, and thus he would have to make the long trek up Gagazet.

"Forgive Kelk." He said silently.

Kelk took the child, wrapped in a Ronso robe and pressed against the elder's chest, and began the climb.

***

The peak was his privilege as elder, though the depths of the snow and cold made the journey feel like a walk through the gauntlet and the pup crying against his chest couldn't even be muffled by the snow. Kelk's thick fur served as a pathetic shield from the cold, he could only imagine how an infant's downy coat let in the wind. If he were lucky, the mountain would decide before even reaching the top.

The cries began to fade as the mountain rose above the clouds. The snow here never fell, never melted. It simply stayed as it was unchanging since the first Ronsos guarded the sacred mountains. Kelk passed the wall of mysteries and the pup became completely silent. Probably sleeping in some form now, so he couldn't see the mist and fog that shrouded the wall, the stone remains of the Old Ones, the people who used to live on Gagazet before the Ronso. They sang in chorus, as they always did. Kelk recognized the song as the Hymn of the Fayth, the song of the Yevonite missionaries and the summoners. The elder had always found it discordant, yet the pup seemed to find it a lullaby.

"Child strange," he murmured, looking down at the sleeping infant. "Strange."

Kelk carried on, through the cave that had tested his resolve to become elder and served as a practice ground for the Ronso Blitzball trainees. Fortunately, the stone stairs only broke when testing an elder so at least he didn't have to face the trial while swimming with an infant.

The peak was as frigid as he remembered with the wind cutting through the thin skin of his ears, but he could hear Gagazet, smell Gagazet, see Gagazet as it was meant to be perceived. Emptiness in all directions, the depth of night descending and the moon so close that Kelk instinctively reached out his hand to grab it. On the south side, home to everyone in Spira, up north the sacred ground that no one but summoners and their guardians could traverse. And the wind, constant motion around his central point, was the breath and voice of the mountain himself. Kelk asked the mountain, "This pup, what do we do?"

Then he closed his eyes and waited for an answer.

He didn't see or hear an answer as much as he smelled it on the wind. The iron tang of blood, resin from the far south. Fresh rain and snow from places further away, the earthy smell of the Guado lands, and the otherworldly smell of the city beyond. He smelled salt water from the ocean and alien beings and the old ones on the wall. He smelled Ronso in his life, but humans as well from all tribes, and Guado, a troubling smell. He smelled destruction, creation, and hardship, everything this child would struggle through. And then Kelk smelled himself, perfumed and groomed, years into the future judging this one again, their lives intertwined. When he had absorbed all that, the mountain whispered to him, "Kelk decides."

The child had remained silent through this, yet alert, with his eyes taking in every detail of the peak, and the smells from all over the world coming through his nose. He knew his destiny as well as anyone, but with time he would forget as all pups did. The mountain said the life was his choice, but Kelk knew what he needed to do.

***

Except for Khishana, mate of Kelk and wise woman of the tribe, everyone had resumed their own business in spite of the child. Nothing important, they all knew, Kelk only climbed so he could claim that he had made his decision fairly without concern to ease or politics. He presented the pup to her, still alive and hungry for milk.

Though she never spoke, Kelk knew her question. What had he learned from the mountain? He could not say, not without shaping the pup's path. "Pup's name is Kimahri," Kelk said, "New mother shall nurse him with her litter. He will grow strong."

"Kelk saw?" Khishana said, accepting Kimahri into her arms, "Kelk choose name Kimahri. The persistent one."

"Kelk saw. He will need his name."

Kimahri cried, caring more for his sustenance than his destiny.


	29. Dry Grasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kimahri's now on the other side, but things don't necessarily look better.

There's a human saying Kimahri remembered from the wandering summoners. "The grass is greener on the other side." Life from the outside looked fresher, sweeter than the life lived on the inside. Kimahri hadn't seen much of grass, just the few scraggly patches that lay at the base of the mountains, the meaning of the saying though remained clear.

All Ronso knew the principle, though they used different expression. Life outside the clan seemed less restrictive, less harsh, but Ronso needed to band together to survive. How long could one last alone and away from the mountain, especially the Hornless.

Kimahri thought of these chances, especially when the only thing he carried was a spear for a weapon and a dying man as a burden. The guardian, Auron, didn't say much as Kimahri emerged from the mountain tunnel into the northern sunlight for the first time in his short life.

A slight breeze. A wind chilled but did not freeze the skin under his fur. Bridges leading into a narrow crevice His first steps away from the mountain were unremarkable, but he couldn't help look at the new details. The land seemed flat to him except where deep scars carved the landscape. Nowhere, though, did Kimahri see any green.

Before his duel with Biran, Kimahri thought a little bit of what life could be like outside the clan. There'd be no rules, no one taunting him about being a runt, but now, when he was Hornless and forced to be outside his people, independence seemed like a dreadful consequence.

He enjoyed the sunlight though as he walked with his burden. His life spent in the shadow of his mother, the warmth of the bright star countering the breeze served as a pleasant, and new contrast.

Where the world widened even further, Chocobos wandered and played, pecking at each other and the hands of a timid trainer. Kimahri laughed when a particularly hostile bird began to chase the poor woman across the flat plain, and he swore he felt a slight shudder of amusement from the man he carried across his back.

Auron. Yuna. Promises. His illusion of freedom vanished as he became more aware of the man on his back. Kimahri might be alone and on his own, but actual independence was a dream, the isolated patches of green in an otherwise dried field. Even now, before he reached Bevelle and searched out the girl Yuna, Kimahri had another responsibility towards this man who had inadvertently saved his life and given him a place to go.

So while he could stay and enjoy his journey, this time where Kimahri was Kimahri and not a Hornless, he felt another he owed Auron something else, death among his own kind, with his own rituals. The man's life faded with Kimahri's every step, and the Ronso doubt he could even fulfill this one little self-imposed duty.

Rumbles like the tremors of a giant fiend's footsteps rolled through the land, and Kimahri worried that something might be about to attack him, perhaps at the recognition that one was about to join their numbers. What arrived instead was a human, on something that moved like an animal or a fiend, but did not seem to live.

"May I help you?" The human's bright eyes and hair immediately caught Kimahri's attention, so different from the summoners and guardians who usually passed through Gagazet. Human though. Not Ronso, and that made enough of a similarity to show this new human Auron's unconscious body.

"Man dying here, need shelter. Kimahri asks if man have shelter."

The man searched Kimahri's eyes, his own swirled green pupils betraying a shrewdness that his otherwise easy expression took care to conceal. "That is Sir Auron. Yes, I believe we have room at the Agency for him. You will come with me?" He gestured to the animal-but-not-living thing and Kimahri climbed on.

"No no. You must secure him like this first. We might be able to save him."

Kimahri nodded dumbly, unsure of what he should do here on the other side, in a world with rules different from the ones outside. So he just watched, listened, and obeyed.

So much for independence.


End file.
